


Little Bro

by ZChan



Category: Dude That's My Ghost!, Dude! That's My Ghost!, dtmg - Fandom
Genre: Adventure, Billy is Alive, Bromance, Cartoon Physics, Character Development, Childhood, Comedy, Cutesy, Fluff, Gen, Mystery, Randomness, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Friendship, Suspense, Unresolved Tension, bromighost, ectofeature
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-01-16 00:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 79,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1325467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZChan/pseuds/ZChan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Billy broke the thing that allows Spencer to see Billy and Billy won't tell him why.<br/>My predictions as to their personalities and they're very mature friendship with comedy and Danny Phantom references.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Weird Billy

Spencer sluggishly walked into the room dragging his feet on the polished floor of his distant cousin’s room (which was now his) having his back arched like an old man. His eyes were droopy and everything in his body hurts like tiny men where sent to follow him around everywhere and poke needles on his skin. As he dragged himself out the elevator, he dropped his book bag on the ground and moaned. “Ugh,” he said, “Mr. Ponzi is brutal. Where’s a ghost to pluck his toupee off his chrome dome when you need ‘em, eh Billy?” He laughed to himself but not whole heartily knowing he would not get a reply. Billy was nowhere to be seen to the naked eye. He could see him if he had one of Billy’s gear, but with all of them off to the Billy Joe Cobra monument and the last piece he owned that was Billy’s broken, he then couldn't see him anymore. The confusing and depressing part was that it wasn’t his fault. It was Billy’s. And not only did Billy _purposely_ break the glasses Spencer had for keeps, but he broke Rajeev and Shanilla's objects too. No one had any way for Spencer to see Billy anymore.

He could remember those weird first few days fondly. He can remember the day it all started as it it was a few moments ago. It was a good sunny Saturday evening, Spencer having a bag of king sized potato chips on one side of the chair, Billy having a jumbo size soda on the other, and the boys were mindlessly and calmly playing a friendly fighting simulator game together, just a normal day with his bro, involving playing video games and laying off homework until ten in the evening. Spencer didn’t, or rather couldn't notice if Billy was sad or angry or if any negative thoughts and feelings were going on in his head because Billy was a perfectly normal, smiling ghost, the same one he's been days, weeks, and months before. Again, it was just a normal day with his bro to Spencer, and on that day he had no idea if anything could go wrong if it wasn't random or silly.

Then Billy asked a random question. 

Now, random questions come to mind whenever one is lost in thought. It's only natural to wonder what's your best friend's favorite band or color or cheese is if you never knew to begin with. It's nice to get to know your friends better.

Billy didn't ask that type of question though. It wasn't a question anyone would think would contribute to the future of anyone's bond like any normal friends would try to do by asking.  

No, the question that Billy asked that day, the question that started the drastic change in everything everyone knew and loved about their reality, was indeed improbable. The question that begins it all went quoted as this:

“Does Hauchy sound familiar to you, bromigo?”

Spencer was naturally a passionate game player and was in the zone, pressing random colorful buttons to get the best results and beat Billy. He almost missed the question. “Uh….no…no not really.” He leaned closer to the TV, sticking out his tongue on the side of his mouth and squinting his eyes. Full concentration. He had no idea what that first response was going to lead to. The friendship between Billy and him was still as clear as day in his mind and sure as blue sky that's it was going to be the same in seconds, minutes, hours, and even days towards the future. Life changing questions like the one Billy asked meant nothing to him at the time, so he responded with a non-life changing answer. How was he supposed to know how much this question weighed on the rest of his life? It was a normal day with his bro. 

“Oh…do you keep grudges?”

Spencer smirked thinking of the absurd amounts of truths that statement had. He'd yet to know someone who had kept a longer grudge than he had. He doesn't hold a lot of things against people, mind you, and he's pretty forgiving, but when you took it a step too far, he will make you remember every second of what you did with a side order of guilt until the day you died. “Oh heck yea, you have _no_ idea. It’ll follow me to the grave if it could.” He didn't think if the answer was doing anything to Billy's feelings, so helplessly clueless. The comment after the answer made him slap himself in the face mentally, however. Spencer knows all to well how bringing up the subject of death made Billy feel. He was waiting unnervingly for Billy's tirade, but didn't get one from him.

“Mmm." Billy replied. Future Spencer wishes sometimes he could have asked what was wrong with Billy at that point of interrogation instead of sighing in his head about the lucky bullet dodge he just made. A little 'why do you ask' might have cleared things up a bit earlier. Stopping Billy right there was saving them three weeks worth of emotional turmoil that balanced their friendship on a thread or maybe avoiding the months worth of distress and confusion that completely threatening both bros having a relationship at all. But he didn't care about any 'who, what' when, or why's' right now. He focused on the game too intensely to care. "Well, what do you feel about promises?” Billy continued.

“Should be kept.”

“Or breaking them.”

“Should be for a good reason.”

“How would you feel if…I dunno, _I_ broke a promise?”

Billy was a man of many things. He was a musician, an actor, a fashion designer, a critic, and, on the side when he's free, a fifteen year old girl. But one thing Spencer knew Billy for, if he knew him for nothing else, was that Billy was probably the biggest screw up Spencer has ever known. That's mean, but that was the basic, non sugar coated version of Spencer's Billy Joe Cobra. And that was fine. Being a screw up was only a tiny factor of Billy's person, and Spencer would never be friends with Billy if that trait was all he concentrated on. When things hit the fan, Spencer knows Billy meant no harm, if anything had benevolent intentions, except for that one time with the hair, but Billy wasn't himself anyway. So when it comes to things like promises, by now Spencer sought the worst case scenario and forgave Billy before hand. “I’m sure you’d have a good reason. Or a bad one. I don’t care.”

“Are you sure, bro?”

“Yea.”

“Cause I would never break a promise unless I couldn’t do it, you know that right?”

“I…do…” Spencer started to take note of the questions' pattern and was both confused and concerned. Billy would make a promise or two here and there, and he'll maybe keep it in his own 'special' way. What was out of character was Billy's consideration for Spencer's side of the situation. He didn't like to think of Billy as a self absorbed egotist. He actually liked to think of that side of Billy that would help a bro in any way within his power. But even _he_ had to admit this was something off. He glanced at Billy from the corner of his eyes and furrowed his brow. “Something the matter, Billy?”

He didn’t speak.

“Billy?”

Still no response. He wasn’t active towards the game either, and his player stood still for Spencer to take him down easily. A huge **FINISH HIM** filled the bright screen when Spencer made his second to last hit on Billy's inanimate character. Spencer eventually paused the game and turned to Billy who was looking at the floor with a serious expression Spencer never saw from him. His face was usually expressive and over exaggerate. Now it’s plain and mature looking, like a parent after a long day of work. “You okay, dude?”

He was silent for a few more seconds. For a second or two, Spencer was convinced he was a puppet. Then he looked at Spencer with that same face, dead like a doll's except he was blank. It scared him. “I don’t want to play anymore,” he finally said.

“Oh, okay. That’s cool.” Spencer pressed the remote button that shuts off the TV as soon as he could. “What do you want to do?”

Billy began to lift from the chair and back stroke sadly to the wall. “Actually, I’m kind of tired. I don’t feel like doing anything. I think I’ll hit the hay.” He phased through the wall, out of sight. “Night brotoski.”

“Uhm…okay. I guess I’ll…” Spencer stood from his chair. “Do homework.” Feeling an uncomfortable atmosphere, he walked over to his homework desk with his 100 pound homework from Principle Ponzi. He turned on his night lamp and grabbed his pencil to do the first page. “Good night, Billy.”

After a moment of solving math problems he probably won’t benefit from in the future, he heard Billy’s voice saying, “Take out my shades.”

Spencer turned around on his chair to look up at Billy. That same blank expression was on his face. “You mean the sun glasses you gave me?”

“Yea, those.”

Spencer glanced at the floor before his eyes went back to Billy. “Why?” he asked raising an eyebrow.

“I want to see them real quick.” He offered out his hand as a sign he wanted to have it.

“But…Billy, I can’t see you if you take them.” He chuckled knowing he’s stating the obvious.

“I just want them.” He transported himself to Spencer’s level. “Two seconds.”

“Why do you—? It’s 8 o’clock at night and you’re going to sleep anyway. Why do you need them?”

His brows fowled defensively. “What’s with the interrogation? I just want my shades, man.”

“Why are you dodging the question?”

“I’m not dodging any question.”

“Then why do you need them?”

The more he demanded, the deeper his arched eyebrows sank. “Just give them to me, dude.”

“You’re acting weird.”

“I’m not acting weird!”

“Then answer me.”

“Why do you care? It’s just shades.”

“They’re not just shades, Billy. It’s the thing that makes me see and hear you, the only thing. I want to know it’s not going somewhere to get broken.”

Billy just stared hard at him, hesitant. He glared at the ground with a growl and scratched his neck.

“What’s wrong, Billy?”

He didn’t speak for what felt like hours before he looked at Spencer with a fire-like glare and demanded again. “…Give me my shades.”

Billy was hiding something. “No.”

“No?”

“No. Not until you tell me why.” It doesn’t have to be true either. All he has to do is say ‘So I could wear them.’ That’s all he wants. You have sunglasses to wear them. He doesn’t care anymore that 5 seconds ago Billy was catching some Z’s. He won’t question why a person feels like wearing sun glasses during the night. All he wants is to hear him say that he wants to wear it. It’s the bit of relief Spencer needs from the fact Billy was hiding something. Why is it so difficult for Billy to tell him? Suddenly Billy shoved Spencer on his chair and Spencer hit his elbow on his working desk. His elbow stinging, Spencer grabbed it and swallowed a shriek, biting his bottom lip and twitching his right eye. “Ouch!”

“Give them to me!”

“What’s wrong with you?” He tried to keep a straight face so he could hide his fear; it was notified in his voice. Billy was a really fun ghost, like Casper, in Spencer’s everyday life. But now Spencer sees him in a new light. It’s like he’s a poltergeist that will leave blood marks on his sister’s back or levitate his father into a fire pit. “Get away from me!” He didn’t mean that in any mean way. It was a shout birth from fear. Billy looked to take it the wrong way and his once angry expression turned into a sad one, like a kicked puppy. Spencer’s attitude grew softer. “Billy I didn’t mean…just…you’re scaring me a little. All I want is a reason—”

Grabbing Spencer’s collar, Billy lifts Spencer to the ground. Spencer hits his back and yelps from surprise. “Give me my shades,” he growled.

“Get off me!” Spencer tried to pry his fingers off or push him off, but that only made him claw deeper on his shirt. “Let go!”

“Give me my shades!”

“ _No_!”

“ ** _SPENCER_**!” There was an edge in there, a threatening edge that made him flinch from the sound. Like he was 5 seconds from hitting him in the face. And he was uncomfortably close to his face like it WILL happen. What scared Spencer more was that it was his actual name that was said. He would usually hear a ‘bromigo, Spenpal, Broseph Stalin, broham sandwich’. Never ever his actual name. He knew then and there Billy was very serious at the time. “Give. Me. My shades. _Don’t make me take them from you_.”

Spencer immediately complied. Rummaging in his jean pocket, he pulled out the only thing in the house that could let him see Billy. It slipped out his hands sharply as Billy snatched it. Transparent Billy started to fade from his vision until there was nothing but floating sunglasses in the air. Spencer sat up. “Okay, you got your glasses, now what?”

Then came the most horrible two seconds in his life. The two seconds spent for the sunglasses of Billy Joe Cobra to snap in half and drop to the floor was so unreal it took Spencer what felt like all day for it to sink in his head. Did Billy just do that? Are those glasses seriously broken? Is this some sort of joke? When he gained control of his common sense, Spencer finally dipped down and picked up the two halves. He could see his hands shaking. He found himself putting them back in order to see if it would have some sort of effect even though he knew it wouldn’t. Nothing was seen or heard from Billy. Spencer could hear himself muttering “no” over and over as his eyes hunted the room for any signs of Billy. Finally his voice erupted. “Billy! Why would you do that?! You do know I need those to see you, right? Billy?” he felt uneasy about the silence in the room which was regularly filled with their cosmic chatter. “Billy! Give me a sign!”

From that he heard the small klacking coming from his laptop. Before he was playing with Billy, he was writing a script for his next horror movie on his laptop. Was Billy trying to change the script without him watching or something? Spencer rushed over to his bed and plopped himself down, staring at the screen. He read aloud. “ _I’m sorry about that whole episode. I hope I didn’t scare you too much_. No! You didn’t!” He said that sarcastically. He was freaking the shakes out of him. The clicity clackity continued some more and Spencer read as words appeared on his script.

“ _But I had to do it. I don’t deserve to be seen anymore, especially by you_...What…? _I can’t forgive myself for what I’ve done to you. I don’t deserve to be your friend anymore_. Done what? Is it about that time you dumped me in Dad’s cheese? You weren’t yourself that day, Billy, it’s cool! _No, this happened a long time ago. You may not remember it because you were like 5 years old or something, but I did something bad to you and I can’t stand the guilt_. What are you  talking about? I never knew you existed when I was that old. And I haven’t listened to your music until I’ve met you now which, by the way, was the only point of time I’ve known you personally. I don’t understand. _I know you don’t, and I want it to stay that way before you remember and start to hate me. I can’t undie with myself if you ever hate me_. Billy! What’s wrong with you?! _I love you Spencer, good b_ —what the heck? Billy, you’re kinda freaking me out, dude.”

The silence in the room was driving him on the brink of insanity. “Billy? Answer me!... Come on, dude! I don’t care what you did when I was 5 or whatever. That was like 9 years ago, that’s all behind us…If I don’t remember it wasn’t a big deal anyway…Billy. Billy! ...BILLY!”

 

* * *

 

“Aww, mom, do I _have_ to go?”

“We’re already here. No turning back now. Unless you feel like waiting a week before the next plane comes at the airport.”

“But _mom!_ ”

“I want to go see my older sister’s daughter and how she’s doing. Is that too much?”

“But did we have to go all the way to this smelly old farm?” his arms extended to the mud filled landscape filled with fertilizer and flies. A successful crop was nowhere to be seen. And maybe five miles on the horizon was the house which was basically a shrimped up cabin. Baruch didn’t want to take one step more in this mud pile of a farm. He wanted to go home and pursue his career as a musician some more, but no. He had do this stupid family reunion to his older-than-him-cousin he never met before. He’s 14 and she was mid-20 something. What was he supposed to do with an old woman like that? He couldn’t just stand there and do nothing all day for over a week. This was totally bogus. Why is he with her anyway? He should be with his groupies and producers. Maybe he should get rid of her.

“Don’t be like that Hauchy. It’s about time you got out of the city and into a nice, crisp, refreshing atmosphere.” She took a deep breath of air and the stench of powerful cases of manure hit her senses and went straight to her stomach. She caught herself before she vomited and composed herself quickly while clearing her throat. “Shall we?”

When they finally made it to the house, his mother lightly tapped the door in fear it might break off if she hits it too hard. Pouty J** Cohen crossed his arms over his chest and hunched his back being a Scrooge. _It’s hot outside,_ he whined in his head, _and it smells and all these flies are in my face and I don’t see any buildings besides this one and there’s no Wi-Fy and I’m bored! I wanna go home!_

The door opened five seconds later and a red headed woman with overalls and a plaid shirt over a round body. The perfect picture of a farmer. “Auntie ****!”

“Nephi Jane!” She extended her arms out to hug her niece who was a few years younger than she was. Baruch watch the two woman hug each other feeling irritable. His cousin Jane caught a glimpse of Baruch from her aunt’s back.

“Is that my cousin?” she asked excitedly.

“Mmhm. That’s your cousin.”

“Oh my gosh!” Jane whirled around her aunt and went down to his level so she could see him eye-to-eye. “Are you really Billy Joe Cobra?”

Baruch pulled his hair back with a smug smirk. At least he’s well known here. “You know it, babe.”

His cousin gasped. “He called me babe! He spoke to me! Oh my goodness, I can’t believe my cousin is a super star and he came all the way here to see me!”

_By force_ , he was about to add, but stopped because he didn’t want to ruin her excitement.

Then his mother came in to ruin the conversation. “He’s taking a break from all that stardom stuff—” _by force_ “—for a few days, Jane. I would prefer it if you call him by his name, Baruch.”

Jane tried to pronounce his breathy name only too embarrass Baruch more and more. His real name is hard to pronounce to English speakers and he’s embarrassed for it to be known by others. He wanted to keep his initials though, so he got BJC and picked two easy names plus his spirit animal **THE COBRA** …. Why does his mom have to keep telling everybody his real name? “J-just call me Hauchy.” He chuckled.

“Okay!”

His mother pats Jane’s back and crouches down to her level too. “Come on, let’s go inside. We have some catching up to do!”

Jane jumped up and followed he aunt inside the house. “Okay, aunty.” Before going inside he looked behind herself and gave and excited friendly wave at Baruch which he returned. While he was conflicting with himself on whether he should stay out in the hot mosquito filled air or if he should take his chances to see if it’s any worse inside, he heard a low growl coming from space. His eyes slowly darted from side to side while giving a quizzical look at his surroundings. After a second or two, he said, “Nope,” and hurried inside.

 

“And three years later, I had another baby. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I’m thinking of naming her Joey.”

“You haven’t named her yet?”

“No, I wanted to wait until my husband gets home so we can name her together, like we did with Spencer.”

“Where is he anyway?”

“I don’t know. He’s so reclusive from everyone else.”

“No, I mean your husband.”

“Oh, him, he’s blahblah blah blah blahblah—”

_I wanna go hooooooooooooooooooooomeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehhhhhhhhhhhhh_ , Baruch thought to himself as he lied lazily on the couch, more than welcome to prop his feet on it. He hated this wrecked up house and his poor looking farmer family. This living room was the size of his bedroom deduced by 70% with a small couch and no television but a fire place. The kitchen used GAS as a heating source and the stove was a rust mess as well as everything else. He didn’t even want to KNOW what horrendous thing lie upstairs. He was bored out of his mind. What he would do to just pluck ONE of the strings on his fabulous guitar. He thought of the fabulous tune it would make as he made believed plucking strings to his awesome guitar. _Derderderderderbluhblubluhblehlebluudedenene_. **_SUDDENLY_** , he caught the big black eyes of a small boy with brown hair staring at him. He looked annoyed with Baruch and the boy’s unblinking eyes was creeping him out. He blinked at the boy, and when he did that, the boy smiled brightly and squeaked, “I win.” He ran away from the room. He was startled. Were they having a staring contest?

“Wha—that’s not fair!” He did a back flip off the couch and ran after the cheating runt. “Hey, get back here!”

He followed the hollow creaks on the hallways of this room and ignored his mother and cousin calling after him. He made it to the dining room where he could hear the little giggles. All that was in there was a small white table and 3 chairs the same color. And it was as small as a box. He didn’t understand where he could be hiding from here, but he followed him all the way over here.

“Billy,” shouts his cousin form behind. His mother corrected her and continued, “What were you running for?”

“There was this kid and he…ran away from me.”

“Was he small and wears a white shirt?”

“Yeah.”

“Brown hair?”

“Yeah.”

“Round face?”

“Yeah.”

“Looks like a mini rip off of Danny Fenton?”

“Yeah!”

“That’s my son, Spencer. Hehe, that’s interesting, he only comes out once in a blue moon. I think he wants to meet you.”

Baruch felt smug about this. _Looks like the kid wants to meet the Cobra for the first time. Totally understand._ He pulled his collar and chuckled. “I see. Welp, this will be a lucky day for some paper and a pen.”

“But, um, Billy, you should know—”

“Alrighty little dude,” he shouts at the air. “Nuh’thin to be afraid of. Billy Joe Cobra is more than happy to give autograAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” At the top dark corner of the room were devilish eyes staring back at him with a vengeance. That devil leaped at Baruch and he feel back screaming his head off at the man eat lady bug attacking his face.

“BLEH BLEH BLEH, I’M GOING TO EAT YOUR FACE!”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

He was saved by his cousin who picked up the lady bug monster who was still after Billy’s face. “ _Spencer_!”

The lady bug calmed down and turned to his mother with a smile. “Hi, mom.”

“I don’t mind you doing these horror movie shenanigans on your own time but don’t put them out on our very special guest. Don’t _ruin_ this for me, Spencer.”

A smile turned to a frown and excited eyes filled with adrenaline was drained of its joy, turning to the floor. “Sorry, mom.”

Baruch thought of his cousin as something very rude. But before that, he was coming out of his traumatic, paralyzed state. He shook out of it and sat up very flustered. “What was that for, dude?”

Spencer looked to be choking in his own words and frightened.

“Do you have any idea how scared I was? That was horrible, you little freak! What type of weirdo would do something like that to someone you psycho killer in training!”

That looked to hit him right in the feelings as Spencer teared up. Baruch felt a hype of triumph that was shattered by Spencer’s sad eyes. That triumph was replaced by this pinch feeling in his chest and a turn in his stomach. _What is this horrible feeling_ , he asked himself, _I don’t understand!_

“Go to your room, young man!” She put him down and he hurriedly ran out of the room before he could cry. Everyone was pleased with this except Baruch’s mom. He could feel her cold stare on him.

“What?”

“Apologize to that boy.”

“But, mom—”

“Now.”

“He scared me, mom!”

“It was an innocent little prank and you took it to a new level and made him cry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jane defended. “Spencer will walk it off later—”

“Be quiet, Jane dear,” his mother said kinder than her death stare at Baruch implied. Baruch rolled his eyes and stood up to walk to the little runt’s room.

The stairs felt so unsafe the thought that a feather could break these things at any moment stalked his mind. He sank a little lower at each step. At the top, he took a left turn and yelled, “Yo, Spencer? Where are ya?” he continued walking until he heard sniffles on the door to his left. He knocked on it and the sniffles stopped. He decided to open the door only to find a little boy in a messed up lady big costume crying in the corner. The pinny feeling in his chest came back. What the heck _was_ this pain? “Hey…little, dude?” Spencer made no response.

Baruch sat next to Spencer, crisscross. “Hey,” he continued, “chill, little dude. I understand every now and then you gotta prank some fresh meat. It’s all good.” No response. “How about I give you an autograph and we can forget about this whole freaky episode?” No response. “Hel-lo..?”... “Autograph.” … “from _me._ ” … “Are you understanding the words, little dude?”… “I just offered you an AUTOGRAPH from _moi_! That should be worth enough money to get you out of this dump.”

Finally, Spencer asked, “Is it? Are you famous or something?”

He was bewildered. “Ub, ut-tah ub bida I—I am OFFENDED! Do you _know_ who I _am_?!”

Spencer turned so he could see Baruch in the face. “I think you said your name is Hauchy?”

“Dude, it’s me, BJC. The world famous musician that made 100 hits before he turned 15. I’m all over the news.” He said this while pulling collar and putting out his award winning smiles. While he was expecting an epiphany and a gasp, begging for that autograph, all he received were eyes staring at him in confusion. “You know, Billy Joe Cobra.”

“Is that some sort of cereal mascot?”

“Cereal—no! It’s me, the Cobra! Haven’t you heard of me?”

He shook his head.

“Haven’t you heard any of my hits? ‘Big Yachts and Money’, ‘I Love Me More Than You Love Me’?”

He shook his head.

“What-de-de-duh-de-wh-wher-were you raised in a cave!?”

“No, a farm.”

Was it because they had no TV? No, even his mother heard of him. He must have heard a lick of him somehow. “Whatever. Just take the autograph and forget about it.” When he said that, Spencer went back to moping in his corner. “Ugh, what now?”

“Sometimes,” he said in a sad voice, “at school, I would do stuff like this to the other kids and they would call me a serial killer too. Even my friends didn’t want to be my friend anymore because they thought I was going to kill everyone eventually. I didn’t mean to be a serial killer. I was just reacting a cool movie I saw. I thought it would be funny, but now everyone hates me. And my mom hates me because I embarrass her a lot. And now you hate me. Do you think I’m really going to kill people when I grow up?”

“Dude!” That startled Spencer and he looked at him in the eye again. This information irritated Baruch. While he’s in no position to think less of these people, that doesn’t make what they’re doing right. “No, dude, don’t let others tell you what you’ll be doing when you grow up. You do what you want, not what they what. And if you _are_ going to be a serial killer when you grow up, _you_ did that.”

“You mean I will be?”

“Because you _want_ to.”

“But I don’t want to.”

“Then you don’t have to.”

“I don’t?”

“No. Be whatever you want to be, little dude. I’m sure it’ll be something tots righteous.”

Spencer beamed. When Baruch saw that, that horrible turn in his stomach morphed into something tickly and fluffy. He familiarized this feeling with the time he got his first yacht and the time he received his first jet plane. This feelings was different though. He _could_ say it was a better feeling. He didn’t understand what this feeling was either. _This kid gives out some freakish vibes_.

“So…” he said returning the smile and trying to change the subject. “What the heck is going on with,” he gave Spencer a quick body check, “this?”

Spencer lite up with excitement. Billy was like that too when he first became famous, so eager to talk about himself. “I’m the Man Eating Ladybug from _Man Eating Ladybug: Dawn of the End_! He’s so awesome! He all RAH RAH and everyone’s like _oh no ahhh_ and he’s just BOOM CRASH BLEH BLEH MUNCH MUNCH and he’s so cool! But he _died_!” Spencer slouched like a deactivated robot. “And I miss him.”

“Isn’t that,” Baruch gulped, “A horror film?”

“What’s horror?”

“It’s uh…it’s a genre to a movie where there are these bros and some…die…in a s-scary way…and the film is scary…and everything dealing with the film is downright _scary_!”

“It wasn’t scary.”

“Are you kidding?! I could get pass the first two minu—uh ‘cause I was busy. B-being awesome.” _Nice save_. “Are you some type of weirdo or something?”

“I’m not a weirdo.” He had sadness in his face that brought that weird feeling back.

“No, you’re not. I mean, like, I don’t see a lot of kids your age that can take this creepy stuff so…casually.”

“It’s not like it’s scary.”

“It kind of—whatever. If it makes you happy little dude, do you.”

“Why do you keep calling me Little Dude?”

To be honest, Billy forget Spencer’s name a few minutes ago, but he shouldn’t tell Spencer that. “Cause we’re friends now, and friends give out nick names.” That was paradoxically good but hard to say.

“We’re friends?”

“Sure. I don’t see why not.”

“Oooh!” Spencer acted like this was the first friend he ever had in his life, and Baruch won’t be surprised if it is. “What do I call you? Big Dude?”

Baruch chuckled thinking of something inappropriate. “Just call me Hauchy.”

“Where do you get Hauchy from Billy Joe Cobra?”

_Should I tell him my real name?_ “I-uh-like the way it sounds…Don’t question me, just deal with it.”

“Okay, Hauchy.”

Baruch found that he did his job of making Spencer happy again and thought it was about he left to go back and do nothing. “So…I guess I’ll be—”

“Do you know how to play Dead Man?”

“Huh?”

 

* * *

* * *

 

“Nom nom nom om om. I bite your face off!”

“Oh no! My face!”

“And then you die.” Spencer tapped his head repeatedly. “Be dead. C’mon!”

“Oh, course.” Baruch over-dramatically fell to his death with Spencer still on his shoulders. “Uggghhhhhhh.”

“Hahaha! The Man Eating Ladybug has finished the human race, and shall feast on this morsel of flesh.” Spencer pretended to bite all over Baruch’s torso and it tickled a little. He couldn’t help but giggle. “Dead people don’t laugh.”

“Pffft, sorry.”

“Unless you’re a…ZOMBIE!”

Baruch played along and rose up as a zombie. “Uuuuuuuugggggghhhhhhh!”

Spencer was giggling with delight as Billy pretended to be a zombie. He raised his hands in the air and shouts, “The Man Eating Ladybug: The Beginning of the Zombie Apocalypse!”

“Catchy title—”

“Zombies can’t speak!” Spencer gave Baruch a serious death glare, the kind of glare Baruch always sees in those stupid directors when he does his shot wrongly.

“Oh, uh ugggghhhh uuuuggggh.” He started banging his head on the wall. “Uuuuggggghhhh!”

Spencer continued to march around the room as a man eating ladybug when the door opened. Baruch was introduced to the smile his mother shows when he does something cute. Billy stopped being a zombie and stood straight, going back to his cool, bad boy state. “If you tell _anyone_ ,” he threatened pointing, “I _will_ deny it.” Baruch felt a tug on his pants leg. He looked down to see Spencer hiding from his mother behind his long, slender, jean covered legs. _Is he being…shy?_ He made a big smile in the shape of a U and his eyes sparkled. _Aw, dast suh ku_ (‘that’s so cute’ in baby talk language). For a moment, Baruch thought this was his sibling and he was the elder brother. “Come now, little bro. She won’t bite ya.” His mother crouched down to Spencer’s level with a smile.

“Personally, I thought that ladybug monster prank was very funny.”

Spencer smiled. _Daaaawww_ …. _hey!_

“Just wanted to check on you boys. Hauchy, did you apologize?”

“I _did_ mom!” He glared at her.

“Did he, Spencer?”

Spencer made a shy nod.

“Okay, just checking. Would you like to sleep with Spencer tonight, Hauchy?”

_Sleep with Spencer?_ “Don’t I have my own room?”

“Nope.”

“Aw, c’mon mom!”

“It’s either Spencer, the baby, or your cousin.”

The baby was only two years old. He doesn’t want to wake up to it crying every five minutes. And his cousin…not looking for another groupie tonight… “Uh, I’ll stay with Spencer.”

“Good, my debate wasn’t in vain. Is that alright with you Spencer?”

He nods with a fat grin on his face.

“Good. I’ll be sleeping with Jane, then.” She stood up and walked out the room, a little bit proud of her son. When she left, Spencer was jumping all about the room.

“OhmigoshohmigsohI’mgoingtohavemyfirstsleepover *gasp* how does this work? What do we do? Are we supposed to do boy stuff? Should we wrestle? Or do we spin the bottle—”

“Ooooor, we just sleep.” He said stopping him in his ball of excitement.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. But’s it’s like 7, we still got time to—”

“It’s 7? Wow, it’s late!”

“Late?” Suddenly, any source of light in the house switched off and everything was pitch black. Baruch could see Spencer’s sleepy state starting to come to view as he yawned. “Are you…are you serious…?”

As Spencer crawled to his bed, he said, “We need to wake up by 6 tomorrow so I can make it to school by 10 and do chores.” He cuddled under the covers. “We have to do chores and then I have to get to school after I’m finished..” He words came out as a long yawn.

“Chores? Pfft, the Cobra doesn’t do chores _or_ goes to sleep! PARTY ALL NIGHT!” Then it hit him. What friends to party with? And what to do in this dump? While wondering this, Baruch looked at his little bro cuddled in the covers all happy and relaxed. _Daaaaaaawww, look at lil’ brodey! I need a camera_. Spencer cuddled under the covers and looking up at Baruch with big black eyes. He was still in his lady bug costume though.

“Aren’t you going to sleep in your pajamas?”

“The Man Eating Ladybug _never_ goes *yawn* out of character.” His droopy eyes had a game face with it. Spencer moved as close to the wall as possible to make room for Baruch, if he takes it that is. “Is it too small?”

Baruch smirk shyly and scratched the back of his head, averting his eyes from the kid. “It’s nothing personal,” he said, “But I don’t sleep on the beds of…strangers. I prefer the floor in another person’s home.”

“Why the floor?”

“I sleep better that way.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Just how I roll.”

“You’re weird.”

“ _You’re_ weird.” Spencer’s face turned into a heart breaking frowny one. “But in a good way.”

He blinked twice. “So if we’re _best_ friends, you’d sleep on my bed?”

Billy was about to say out of instinct, “Don’t count on it,” but he caught himself. He shrugged, “Maybe.”

“Hey Hauchy.”

“Yea?”

“Do you really think I’m not going to be a killer when I grow up?”

Baruch crouched down to his level near his bed. “No, lil’ bro, you do what _you_ want to do. I shouldn’t decide for you. Remember that.”

“Okay.”

“Are you thinking of a career?”

Spencer’s eyes shot up with excitement. “I want to be like The Man Eating Ladybug! Or better yet, control him! Yea, he’ll do whatever I want!”

“You should be a film director then.” He has the expressions and the orders, that’s for sure.

“What’s *yawn* what’s that?”

Baruch could tell this was way pass his bed time now, which is freaky. “I’ll tell you tomorrow, you look pretty beat.”

“Beat?” Spencer asked. “Like a…drum?” Baruch chuckled from the unintended pun. “I like drums…..” his heavy eyes surrendered to slumber and Spencer was finally asleep. Billy, on the other hand, was wide awake. He didn’t know how to kill time in this dump now that his little bropal is a dead log. Outside looks nice though. The full moon is out. It might be a nice walk around the…dirt. Even if every step on that poop covered ground will just ruin his 200 dollar fashion brand converses.

Then he looked at his bag at the corner of his room and remembered his guitar. He could play until he falls asleep, maybe catch up on some hits so he could go back prepared. _Will I wake Spencer up?_ No child at Spencer’s age should be tired at this hour, he’ll be doing a good favor.

 

* * *

That same day was torture towards the night. He called out for any sign that Billy could bring until his throat was sore. Spencer remembered the times when Billy was snoring a thunder storm, mumbling a dream, and how that used to annoy him so much. Even if that’s not there he would still hear the strings of the dead musician’s guitar or the _bleep bloop_ on his game counsel going off as Billy tried to beat Spencer's high score. He would always hear some sort of noise from Billy before he went to bed. He grew accustomed to it, making it his lullaby. Now it’s all gone. The room was so silent. Too silent for the average fourteen year old boy to handle, day, noon, or night. A part of him wished he had paranoia and can hear fictional tiny creaks in house. It was a sign _someone_ was moving. No one moved, no one spoke, and he was forced to listen to the soft hums silence had to offer him to compensate for Billy's absent noise.

Spencer couldn’t stop thinking of what Billy did that could make him go AWOL like that. Billy gets Spencer into lots of stupid, life threatening shenanigans. It's how the day is spent. Spencer always thought, in the end of those misadventures, Billy could care less how Spencer felt about it, as long as he was still alive. That’s how Spencer thought this friendship worked: they do something stupid, all’s did, done, and forgiveness goes without saying. Was there something Billy did that bothered him that much? It didn’t bother Spencer, whatever he did do. He doesn’t remember anything Billy did that could make him hate him for life. He nearly killed Spencer in a _Death du Fromage_ attempt, but that anger only lasted five seconds. Billy trashed Spencer's house like a tornado did the waltz with a hurricane in there and made Spencer hate red jello to the point the next reincarnation of himself seeing it would be too soon, but all was forgiven. Billy could destroy his camera and computer, make him look like a schizophrenic maniac and loose his family and friends all in the same day before hating Billy could be an _option_! _What_ was he talking about?

He wondered where Billy was. Did he leave the house? Is he here staring at Spencer as he tries to sleep (a creepy thought)? “Good night Billy.” There was a pain in his chest knowing, like almost everyone thought, he just _might_ be talking to himself this time. “I still think you’re a great friend. Just say’n.” after a sigh, he tried to catch some Z’s.

Billy was in the corner of the room lost in his thoughts, his memories. As a ghost, he is not allowed to remember anything pertaining to his unfinished business. He had no idea of the existence of the Wright family ever involved him, until one day, he looked into old home videos Spencer had. Billy was able to catch a glimpse of Spencer’s memories with him. Then that one photo came, The Man Eating Ladybug, starring Spencer as the Man Eating Ladybug. Billy was freaked out at first because of his hate for nature and he was screaming multiple times as 5 year old Spencer kept saying ‘bleh’. Spencer laughed at Billy and thought his phobia was ridiculous. To get his man points back, Billy held the camera himself and stared straight into the screen. Then it hit him.

The feeling of the hold was so...familiar. Not just any old camera, this camera, showing this exact footage. Billy felt compelled to hold the eye piece to his eye, his hands shaking for some reason. It was like the film was happening right now. He remembers. Spencer was doing this Man Eating Ladybug fan movie. He always loved that movie. It was his favorite. And the person filming the fan screen, it was…it was…Billy! _He_ was the camera guy!

Billy pulled the camera away from him having trouble breathing even though he didn’t have to. Ectoplasm sweat was running down his forehead. The farm. Spencer. His lil’ bro. The promise.

“Billy, you okay?” Spencer asked. He could hardly hear it. Billy looked at Spencer for what felt like the first time since they’ve met. He grew up so much! He’s gotten so big… “Was it _that_ scary to you?” He smirked. “It’s barley a thriller! This is garbage! You _know_ I’ve done worse now.”

He could feel tears boiling in his eyes. Holy Moly, does he even _know_? Does he remember? All that time they’ve spent. He’s betrayed him so much. He heard Spencer laughing, laughing for a false cause. The next action Billy did was levitate to the bathroom. It startled Spencer that he left so quickly but at the same time it amused him. He skipped to the bathroom door to hear the small sobs of Scardey Cat Cobra with a smug smile on his face. “I’ll go get you some PB if that’ll calm down the nerves, bro.” Alarmingly, that only made Billy cry harder and louder. He kept muttering ‘Oh man, oh man’ in repetitive whimpers that made Spencer think this wasn’t about the short film anymore, something deeper. He frowned.

When he opened the door ajar, he was immediately screamed at. “GET OUT—!” and it made him flinch the door shut. His shouts were replaced it with, “G-go away. I need a minute.”

“Take all the time you need,” he muttered with concern and understanding in his voice. He walked over to his bed and added, “I’m here if you want to talk about it!” He re-watched the short film to find anything that could have offended Billy in any way.

Billy was trying to collect himself while the memories were flowing at a fast rate, too fast. He was a horrible person. So horrible, and he never thought twice about it. How can he have the audacity to look at Spencer in the face?

It explains a lot though, why he was so eager to hang out with Spencer and just Spencer. Why their chemistry grew so quickly. Why he has this urge to keep calling him ‘bro’ in different versions of the word.

What if Spencer remembers? He’ll hate him! He’ll detest his very existence as a dead spirit. He can’t live with that! But he can’t go on being his best pal living on a secret. As much as he wants to stay friends, he can’t go on with this lie. Not like this.

%MCEPASTEBIN%


	2. Cobra Confidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Spencer tries to figure out something about Billy and Spencer's relationship through his mom, Billy remembers the first few days of being in the old country with Spencer

Spencer dragged his feet on the ground of his school. His back humped and there was a big frown on his face, droopy eyes. His book bag was with his feet, dragging on the floor. The sun outside the window was a duller yellow than usual in Spencer’s eyes. So were the blue lockers and the white floors. Everything about life was a little bit duller. Rajeev and Shanella walked awkwardly behind eyeing Spencer suspiciously. “Hate to interrupt the rain parade,” Rajeev said, “but what’s the matter, pal?”

All Spencer did was sigh.

Rajeev dared to inch closer to Spencer—Still at a cautious distance—and poke a finger on his shoulder. No response. He did it three more times before Spencer sighed again. “Ooookaay.” He backed away slowly. He whispered to Shanella, “Call me crazy but I think he’s the beginning of the zombie apocalypse.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she replied, “but I know what you mean. He hasn’t spoken all morning. Do you know what’s the matter, Billy?”

Billy, straight faced like stone, floated about and said nothing. For the first time ever, he actually looks like a ghost from the horror movies.

“Billy’s as talkative as a wall, Spencer is Pessimist Magee, what’s next? Lolo doesn’t dig me?” As he said that, Lolo sashayed near them. “Hey there, babe!” Lolo slapped his face using the ‘talk to the hand’ pose and kept walking. “Love you too, honey!” he rubbed his cheek proudly while the other one rested on his hips like he was a super hero. “Still got it.”

But Lolo wasn’t here for Rajeev (not that she ever was at any point of her life), she was here to bother Spencer. With pink lipstick covered lips curved to a smile, she began her planned taunts. “Ew, is that manure I smell? Oh wait, that’s just country boy Spencer!” The teens around them started an applause of laughter, plus Lolo, who then slowly stopped after realizing he responded with nothing. Maybe that was an old one. “Hey Spencer, how are your movies coming along? Let me guess the dialogue. Zombie 1: Gauh! Zombie 2: Bleh Blah!” She chuckled evilly, but Spencer responded to nothing. “Heh. Uhm, is your hair brown or is that just poop from the cows you raise?”… “Can you show me any of your Grammy Awards, Spencer? Oh wait, you don’t have any.” … “You’re stupid and no one likes you because you’re weird.”

Spencer was so unresponsive to a point that made Lolo twitch and ball her fist. What’s with this guy? Why isn’t he paying attention to Lolo? What gives him the right to ignore _her_? She grabbed Spencer by the collar and lifts him to her level while he dangles there like a cooked noodle. “Don’t you hear me? I said you’re stupid! _Stupid! That is an insult! Get agitated!_” As she spoke, she shook him. “Don’t ignore me you little creep _!_ ” He still said nothing. Her built in anger required air in her lungs she couldn’t seem to grab. She unravels her fingers from his collar and Spencer just accepted the acts of gravity, sighing. It’s like he’s dead! A high pitched shriek erupted from her lips as her legs moved her away from the area.

Spencer’s friends watched him lay on the ground for a few seconds more before Shanella said, “You know, that zombie theory is not as arguable now.”

 

 

The sun hurts him at the back of his eye lids, it stings! He mouth felt like he swallowed a desert, and his back was a toolbox! Oh man! He didn’t feel like waking up, but he was feeling well rested. He dared to open his eyes.

The room walls were as gray as he left it. The floors still made out of wood the one window on the side of the wall beached with sunlight. The bed, too big for Spencer, too small for Baruch was at a little corner next to the window and a brown dresser was west to it. The wall in back of Baruch had a thin door leading to the closet and a door leading outside. Baruch was whatever on the floor with his electric guitar on top of him. He finally closed his mouth and clicked his tongue twice. He swallowed spit and his throat stung. “Michelle, get me some water,” he groaned sleepily. His memories returned. “Oh.”

“Oh, you _are_ alive.” He heard his mother’s voice in the exit door. “If you want water, it’s down stairs.”

His sigh sounded like he was being possessed by a spirit for two minutes. After arguing with his body, he finally stood up and got to business.

The kitchen looked so basic and run down he was scared the water was made out of mud by the looks of the sink. He didn’t dare. Instead he changed the subject while he mom walked passed him. “Where’s little bro?”

“Spencer’s at school,” she stopped sweeping the floors and looked at her son with hands on her hips. “When did you care?”

Baruch crossed his arms over his chest. “I just do. What’s with the interrogation?”

“Nothing, just, the first question you usually ask in the morning is ‘where’s my cobra shake?’”

“You always think I’m so spoiled.”

His mother ruffled his spikey black hair playfully. “No I don’t, honey. You know me better than that.” She gave him a smile and kept on sweeping with her hands. “But if you really want to prove your selflessness, go pick him up from school.”

It’s already time to go? How long was he out? “Pick up the little dude?” She nods. “From school?” She nods. “Out in the… _environment_?”

“It is literally nothing but dirt.”

“Exactly! I can’t mess up my new shoes! I _just_ bought it two days ago!”

“Well you should have thought of that when I told you we were going to be in mud. Why didn’t you bring your boots?”

“Because it only matches with my American Solider outfit, and _you_ said I couldn’t bring none of that but the hat and the boots, but I don’t want to bring two of an incomplete set, so I got the hat!”

“You brought the hat over the boots is what you’re telling me right now?”

“No dude’s going to take you as a solider by the boots you wear. I could be dressing as a cop for all they know.”

“Everything you wear doesn’t have to be a matched costume of some sort. They could come along for the sake of function.”

“They do! But your situations don’t match mine!”

“You dress as a cheerleader because you _are_ a cheerleader, not because you’re part of a supporting audience!”

“You’re bringing this up again? So I wore a skirt and pompoms to root for the Bulls, what’s the big deal?”

“A _pink_ skirt with pompoms and some makeup and a long ponytail wig! That’s so over board! A red shirt and a sign could have sufficed, son. You wear stuff like that if it’s a prank or something.”

“Why can’t I just wear it because I want to, mom?”

“Because it’s…” she trailed off the sentence.

“Because it’s what?” Baruch dared her to say the ‘w’ word to him again.

“Because…it’s…it’s weird son. It’s pretty weird.”

Baruch glared at her giving her the deepest frown he could make. Poking her chest, he growled, “I am _not_ weird!” The he points to the sky in a matter-of-fact way. “I’m _mega_ _normal_!” He spun on his heels and marched to the outside door, calling back to her, “In fact, I _will_ go get what’s-his-face ‘cause that’s something _mega normal_ and _selfless_ distant cousins do!” He slammed the door shut with a loud **_Thump!_**. His mother sighed sadly, embarrassed about how she handled that situation.

The door clicked and Baruch’s head reemerged from the door. He shouts, “Where’s his school?”

“Just keep going south.”

“Thank you!” He slammed the door again and he it reopened. “Where’s south?”

She points to that direction.

“Thank you!” He slammed the door and reopened it. “And for all my troubles, I better see a jar of _fresh,_ _creamy_ peanut butter with ALL the peanuts removed, on the counter by the time I get back—!”

“Just go get him you weirdo!” That came out wrongly. She was just very frustrated right now. As Baruch slammed the door for the last time, she could hear him scream, “Mega normal!”

 

 

Spencer had his head resting on the white round tables in the cafeteria. His friends sat on the other side, still at a comfortable distance. Billy was still as emotionless as a stone.

“So are you gonna tell us what’s wrong,” said Rajeev, “Or leave us in suspense for 30 more years?” Spencer sighed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Billy really hates to see Spencer so sad, but it’s for the best. From the beginning he was never a true friend. Spencer will get over it later. In his tirade of thoughts, Billy didn’t hear what Shanilla said. He turned to her. “Huh?”

“I said do you have any idea what’s wrong with Spencer?”

He replied more irritated than necessary. “No. Do I look like his bad mood detector or something?”

“No, I was thinking since you’re with him the most—”

“ _So what if I am? I can’t tell why he’s upset for everything little thing that happens! Gosh!_ ” He flew away angrily.

“Huh. Billy’s acting weird too.”

Spencer’s body erected when he heard the Billy’s name from his friends. Then he cracked a smile. “That’s right!” He said. “You both have some of Billy Joe’s gear!”

“We do,” Rajeev clarified.

“Where is he now?”

Shanilla pointed behind her. “He just left.”

Spencer shot out of his chair and reached for his friends. “Quick, one of you give me one before he comes back—!”

Rajeev started to levitate. “Woah! Billy, what’s up—” He then spun around really fast and was dropped on the floor like rubbish. He stood up with a hand on his head and his pants fell down showing his fishnet leggings. Billy’s belt was then in the air for the group to see it snapped in half before their very eyes.

Spencer ignored what he just saw and concentrated on Shanilla. “RUN!” She didn’t think twice about it and pushed her feet out the room. When she made it through the double doors, Spencer immediately heard a scream. “Shanilla!” Rajeev and Spencer shout simultaneously. The quickly run out of the room after her. The found her on the floor helplessly staring up at the air.

“Billy, don’t!” She called has her watch was snapped in half. “No!” She watched her watch fall and Billy disappear from her sight. She eyed the broken watch, depressed. “Why, Billy?”

Rajeev helped her up while Spencer asked her, “Are you okay?”

“He looked so…blue. But not in a literal way.” Shanilla looked at Spencer’s face. “Spencer, did Billy do this to you too? Is that why you were sad all day?”

Spencer sighed. “Yea. He was saying some cracked up junk about doing something terrible to me and him not deserving to be my friend.”

“He never minded when he did it before,” Rajeev said.

“I know! I didn’t either! He said this happened when I was five or whatever and that’s why I couldn’t remember. I remember a lot of things when I was five or whatever, but I don’t remember him.”

“Maybe your mom does,” Shanilla said.

“My mom?”

“Yeah, she’s the closet source to Billy’s past you have. She must have remembered _some_ times you’ve spent with Billy, even the incident he’s talking about.”

“Yeah…” Spencer thought about it, and this was actually a good plan. “Yeah! You’re a genius, Shanilla!”

She giggled like a school girl.

“Let’s go over to my house after school. And Billy,” he called to the air, “Wherever you are I’m going to find out what the heck you’re talking about _today_!” He felt eye balls on him and surrounded peers stared at the boy talking at nothing. Spencer chuckled and tip toed out the room.

 

 

Mud, everywhere.

Water, nowhere to be seen.

Sun, 5 times bigger than in Hollywood, 10 times hotter than it is big.

Loosing hydration, energy, sanity…

How far _is_ this school? He must have walked a good 12 miles! Looked back at the house which was 6 feet away from him thinking maybe he should turn back. No. He’s a mega normal selfless distant cousin! He’s made it this far, and he’s going to finish what he’s started, unlike most of the things he’s done in life!

Baruch managed to tread along for a few more miles feeling ultra-dose super tired. He was about ready to give up on life itself when he saw a small square on the horizon. He didn’t care if it was the school or not, it was shelter! He’ll just waltz in there, show them his BJC charms, and he’ll score some water in a jiffy. With the last of his strength, he struggled the very last yards to the school. A nice woman, who in foresight looked like an angle from heaven was standing patiently near the door with a smile. When Baruch was just about close to her, he fell to the dusty ground to gain some energy.

He heard giggling from the lady. “I can see you’re not from here.” She handed Baruch a big bucket of water and poured it into his open gap of a mouth. He was soon recharged in a matter of seconds. He was up and off the ground like a charged robot in no time.

“Thanks, sweet stuff—” he said before he was interrupted.

“Call me Ms. ****, young man.”

“Heh heh, sors. I’m uh, here to pick up a kid.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a suspicious stare. “What kid?”

“You know, Little Dude.”

“Over 60% of my class are ‘little dudes’, sir. I need a specific name.”

Baruch scratched the back of his head, pondering over what-his-face’s name. “Uh… Spike? No. Spaghetti …? No…uh—A-ha! Danny Fenton!”

“Look, kid. I don’t know who you are, and I don’t care. I’ve seen your _kind_ out here before and I’m not afraid to bring out **EL STICK**. So move along.”

“My _kind_?”

“Yes, your _kind_. You take out little boys from my school saying you’re here to ‘pick them up’ and you scumbags give them applications to be boy scouts! That’s for _nerds_ , and my students will not be a part of that!”

“Boys scouts? Pfft! If I’m sending an application to do anything, it’s to be a solider, just to get started. Boys scouts are for the high and mighty warriors.”

“Get out of my property.” Ms. **** jerked to the left. She looked down, Baruch looked where she was, and they both saw Spencer trying to move her out of the way. She nudged asking what the matter with him was. Spencer didn’t respond and ran immediately to Baruch to hug his legs. He almost lost his balance but caught himself and smiled.

“Little bropeep!” He exclaimed. He wasn’t in his ladybug costume, but in a white shirt with red sleeves and little blue pants. He pried Spencer off his legs and lifts him up to his level. “What up, beach dock?” He then frowned when he realized Spencer’s lips were quivering and his eyes were watering. “Hey, what’s the matter?” All Spencer did was sniffle and whine, cheeks red. Baruch blinked twice and puts him down. He bends his knees. “It’s alright. Calm down. What’s wrong?”

“I want to go home.” He blubbered quietly.

Baruch nods. He whispers, “No problem. Let’s go.” He grabbed Spencer’s hand and began walking the other direction. Along the way, slowly, Spencer’s tears died out. Almost home, Baruch dared to go past the man barrier. “Is it okay if I ask why you were crying?”

“They keep making fun of me.”

“They who? The kids at school?”

He nods.

“What’d they say?”

“They kept calling me weird, and they keep laughing at me.” He took a big sniff, one that made his head fly back. "They all think I'm a weirdo."

Baruch thought of his mother and her comments that were said not too long ago. Things being said about being weird because he did thing differently. “You’re not weird, you’re mega normal.”

"No I'm not..." he tried to wipe his eyes, but to no avail. "Mom lied. I'm never gonna make any friends..."

“You got me.” Again a paradoxically wrong but nice thing to come out of his mouth. “We’re bros for life! BF’s forever! Horror buddies!”

Spencer looked up at Baruch with eyes filled with amazement. “Really?”

“Sure, it’ll follow us to the grave!”

Spencer’s eyes lit up and his mouth curved to a smile. “And you can haunt me like a poltergeist!” He says like that was a natural and good thing to happen.

Baruch shunned the fact he’s older than Spencer and won’t live to see the next decade like Spencer. He shunned the idea of not living. He’s also very oblivious to the harsh dramatic irony that is his imminent young demise and soon to be still friendship with Spencer. He kept concentrating on making Spencer feel better, a need he doesn’t quite understand yet. “I don’t see why not.”

Suddenly, Spencer hugged the hand that belong to Baruch. Felt warm and plushy his cheeks. That fluffy feeling came back to Baruch and he suddenly cracked a smile. “I have a friend,” he hummed. Despite this, Baruch felt weird about this hugging business. He tried pulling away, but Spencer’s body followed his hand. He shook his hand and he still didn’t budge, just clings to the hand like it was a teddy bear. Baruch thought it was cute and let’s Spencer hang around with it. It makes him think of a little monkey.

“Come little brorilla,” Baruch said still walking. “When we get home, I’m going to do everything in my power to get you a back bone. This crying business will not be tolerated!”

“Okay big brodilla!”

“Pfft!”

 

 

The fronts doors of the mansion flew open with Spencer frantic behind them. “MOM!”

She rushed from the kitchen to aid her only son. “What? What is it?”

Spencer grabbed her collar and pulled her close to his face. “Billy Joe! Old country! Young version! Information! **_NEED_**!”

“Pardon, monsuier?”

Spencer found enough common sense in him to back away and talk with nouns and verbs in his sentences. “Do you remember anything about Billy Joe Cobra visiting us when he was younger?”

“Visiting us? Oh golly joe do I! To the photo album!”

The photo album was located on a round brown table on the foot of the revolving stairs. It’s a binder filled with a collection of memories from the olden days and the newden days experienced in the family glued in a YOLO but organized fashion. Spencer never touched that book because those memories embarrass him to the core, but if Billy is somewhere in there, he’ll go back to them. He stood with his mother and his friends staring into the book of memories. “Anything with Billy when I was 5 years old or whatever?”

“5 years old?" She thought back at a time, and her face shifted from anger to a fake calmness. "Ooh, I remember! I had to call him Bah-Rutch until—”

“Isn’t it Beh-Ruh?” Spencer remembers from that time they got a new principle and he read a little biography about Billy and how Billy clarified the pronunciation. The way it rolled the tongue felt very familiar, somewhere before the time he first heard it.

“Whatever, but he gave us a nick name to use. He said to call him Hauchy!”

Spencer gasped.

“What’s the matter?” Shanilla whispered.

“That was something Billy asked before he broke my sun glasses," he whispered back, "was I familiar with the name ‘Hauchy? Hey mom, did Billy make any promises, specifically to me?”

“No. He paid you little to no mind when he came to visit us. But you bothered him all the time. You were with him at the heel. He was so annoyed you must have drove him away—ow!” Jane’s head jerk to the left. She scratch her head, but she paid no mind to it and continued her story. “That was probably the only day he visited. Anytime after that, he was too cool think of us as anything more than dirt under his shoe. Especially you, unfor--OW!" Her head jerked back again, to the point when she was about to trip over. While scratching her head, she said, "what in the world is that? 

Spencer took note that his mother was sounding a lot meaner than usual. She also looked very angry, like madame X when her plan to capture Billy fails. “So he didn’t make any promises to me?”

“Nope. But let me tell you the story about the time—”

“Yeah, thanks mom.” Spencer and his friends left upstairs before he had to listen to extra information. Jane went back to memory lane in her false statements.

“Well that helped,” said Rajeev.

“Was I really as annoying as my mother said I was Billy? I know we’re not talking but at least give me a sign.” Spencer heard a guitar in the music studio. It was tuned to perfection to a style no one can compare to. No one _dares_ to touch Billy’s guitars except, “Billy!” It was a familiar beat, _Bromazing_. He and his friends ran over to the room just for Spencer’s friends were pushed out of the room by a supernatural force.

"Hey!" The both exclaimed while the door was shut behind them.

Spencer could still hear _Bromazing_ being played in the background. It was actually kind of creepy to stand here listening to a song being played by no one. “Billy?” Spencer looked up searched for the song. He didn't understand why he couldn't find it. The room is only so big (and getting creepier by the second). But then Spencer saw a floating guitar slowly coming towards him. A guitar strap that was strapped to a guitar flopped on Spencer’s shoulders. Billy finally appeared before Spencer’s eyes, right in front of him. He was still tuning the strings to his guitar, singing the song with his bestselling voice. His back was turned to him and his position was as if he was sitting on a chair.

When he strung the last notes to his verse, Billy asked, “You want to know the story on how that song was created?”

Spencer said nothing.

Billy finally spun around to look at Spencer in the face. It felt like seeing Billy was an eternity ago. “That song actually has nothing to do with me. I mean, I _am_ the king of awesome, but this song was to someone that cuts a little bit short of being the coolest.” Billy did a backstroke across the room. “He wanted to know how to play the guitar, so I sat him in between my legs, put a guitar in front of us and then a mirror so he could see what’s being done. I showed him all three cords I know. He didn’t have the born skills of a guitarist like me though. He kept saying he was dumb and that’s why he couldn’t do it. I thought he was a pretty smart and cool dude that didn’t have the talent, so I sang him a little diddle telling him that. The first verse was a thought fart to make him feel better, but I tweaked it a little and made an actual song with it.” Billy floats to Spencer very casually and gave him a smile. “He inspired a lot of my classical songs, actually.” Billy reached a hand over to Spencer’s hair, messing with it and remembering how he used to shape it like his back when Spencer was 5 or whatever. He mumbled, “Loving you is easy ‘cause you look just like me…” with an uncontrolled smirk.

“Billy,” Spencer didn’t appreciate this touching or closeness for long periods of time, “you’re being awkward.”

Billy slowly retrieved his hand, making sure to take in all of this conversation, the one he doesn’t deserve and the one that might be his last. “Sorry, little bro. You’ve just…grown.”

“Are you finally going to tell what you did that was _so_ bad?”

“Heck no,” he chuckled, like that was a funny joke. “But for this brief bromantic moment we have with each other, I just want to tell you that your mom is _way_ off on my hate department. You were—no. you _are_ the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I didn’t have a real friend that loves me for me and not my publicity before I was ghostified except Wendy. It’s _easy_ to love Billy Joe Cobra, but only you loved Baruch J** Cohen. I’d trade all the groupies I have in the world to just have you, Spencer, and you weren’t, are not, nor ever will be an annoying bother to me.”  _That stupid gingersnap_ , he thought and kept to himself. 

That hit Spencer right in the feelings to know how much he meant to Billy. “Oh,” was all he could say. He didn’t know how to reply to such a heart filled comment about Spencer. “Thanks. That means a lot coming from you.” And it _really_ does, Billy being the most narcissistic man that had ever walked the planet.

“Well, _you_ mean a lot to me, Spencer.” Spencer didn’t look at Billy after he said that. Billy could see Spencer twisting his face up and his cheeks going a soft red. _Spencer’s so modest_ , he thought, _and adoraabro, like the old days_. Then he grabs the guitar by the handle and pulls it. “Which is why I have to do this.” But he was stopped by Spencer who was pulling the handle back. “Broski, come one. Don’t…”

“I miss you, Billy.” He said that with sincerity and made sure to look into Billy’s eyes. Spencer’s eyes looked sad, like that time Billy broke his hard drive. It kicked Billy in the gut. He was scared of this happening, Spencer making him feel guiltier than he wanted to feel.

“I miss you too, little bro.” He missed the little things like Spencer looking at him without seeing through him, or playing games with him, or just talking! By the end of the day, he still needs his entourage, even if it is just Spencer (not that he’s saying that isn’t good enough). But… “But this is something I have to do. It… needs to be done.”

“But what about what _I_ need, huh? Maybe I need you there with me, to be visually present, just to get by! You’re my best friend, Billy. I mean it, man! I just want us to be bros again.”

“We _are_ bros. We’ll always be bros. Horror buddies for life, even when I’m not here.”

Spencer’s eyes squinted. “Horror buddies?”

“That was our thing when we were younger. HB4L, Horror Buddies for Life”

“ _Wow_ , we must have been the **lamest** if we had a name like that!”

“Hey, I made that name! You weren’t wedging over it at the time.”

They both chuckled. Moments like this is what Billy will miss the most, laughing, playing together, and being happy together. Now it’ll all be over in a matter of time. It simmered down to an awkward, depressing silence. “You’re the greatest friend ever, Billy,” Spencer said.

“And _you_ need to reevaluate your priorities, little bro.” Billy smirked.

“I mean it.”

Billy hugged Spencer while he, something he does on rare occasions, hugged him back. “I know. Likewise, dude.”

Spencer doesn’t’ usually like to hug Billy. He’s scared that ectoplasm will rub on him and something chaotic will happen to his body, like that time with his hair (that was awesome, don’t get him wrong, but still). Plus the action itself is kind of awkward. He accepted the gesture this time for special reasons: one for his own and another for the fact that it’ll be a long time before he could come in contact with Billy again.

“I love you, Spencer.” Trying to hug him properly, Billy stepped on the flat ground. He took in everything: his warmth, his voice, his body shape, something little like the fabric on his shirt was something he wanted to remember before he had to let go. He remembered a hug like this. His last hug to Spencer when he was alive felt just like this. “You’re the awesomest, man.” He could feel his voice shaking.

His fingers were swift. He could feel Billy’s taller physique on him and he buried his face on his chest. A hug like this felt familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on it what it was. He didn’t put too much thought into it though. Spencer doesn’t like to say words like this except with his parents and other girls or maybe as a joke to the dudes but, “I love you too, Billy.”

He was surprised when Spencer said those words, and it hurts him more to do this. Billy hugged him tighter before he lets go of him. The blue room around them looked duller and grayer. He tried to grab the guitar and leave before Spencer could see him cry, but Spencer held it back again, not wanting to let it go, let Billy go. He gave Spencer one last show of love, a kiss on the cheek. Spencer quickly slaps the side of his cheek and keeps his hand there. He used that sense of surprise to grab the guitar and go. He flew out the door and into its special hiding place.

Well, there can’t be anything in the house Spencer can use to see Billy, but he can’t destroy his precious babies. His babies….

Spencer watched him leave with the guitar. He was also proud to say that he could _watch_ him leave thanks to Billy’s pocket comb which he took from Billy’s pocket while they hugged. The very last minute, Spencer remembered this was one of the things Billy never goes around without. Spencer looked at the pocket comb on his hand and smiled evilly and smugly. The down side is things you never leave home without are also things you know are missing when they are. Spencer has to act fast, see Billy just enough to know one or two things about when Spencer was 5 or whatever. Spencer hide the comb in his hair as best as he could and marched out the studio room.

 

 

Spencer, in his room, was plucking random strings to Baruch’s guitar while he wasn’t looking. He remembered waking up to a wonderful tune and an even better voice. For a second he thought an angel was in his room singing to him in the night. He stood up from his bed to see it was Baruch. Spencer felt like he was dreaming; he never imagined something sounding so cool could erupt from someone’s lips.

 _I have big yachts and money_  
_and I got all the honeys_  
_who I can’t hear with my ears_  
_cuz of the righteous, windy chills_  
_and all these raining dollar bills_

It was so relaxing. The acoustic guitar was playing just the right tunes, even if they were mistakes. His voice was pitched to perfection, again like an angel. It was hard to believe such sounds were coming from his distant cousin, a normal human being. He must be a demon of some sort. It’s the only explanation as to why he sounds so awesome.

Spencer couldn’t sleep last night thinking how wonderful it is to actually be seduced by demon magic. It felt better than he thought it would, listening to such a pretty sound.

He hopes he could produce something cool like his cousin.

“WATER U DOING?”

Alert and awake, he swiftly pulled his hand away from the strings that felt magical to his fingertips. He spun to see Billy wide eyed and pulling at his hair. He felt like he was stealing cookies from the cookie jar and got caught. He didn’t know what to say. Billy, however, rushed over and pulled him away from his guitar to check for any damage. Spencer’s back hit the side of the wall and eventually gravity pulled him face flat on the ground.

Baruch searched over and under for any scratches. He paid thousands of dollars for new strings, a paint job, and a portrait of his face on the back of it _just_ a week ago. He would hate for any scratched to hurt his baby. He sighed when he didn’t find one. A smile grew on his face just for to frown at Spencer. “Bro,” he said with an edge which made Spencer cower and shudder, “ **Don’t**. Touch my guitar.” He came close and personal to Spencer and it was like the world around them became darker. “ _Ever_ ….” He whispered with the deepest frown he could comically make. Spencer nods quickly and frantically, unconsciously putting his puppy face on.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could say quietly. He hoped Baruch didn’t hate him now. Whenever Spencer did something wrong, people hated him to the core, like his mom and the teachers at school. “Do you hate me?”

Baruch backed off when he felt that Spencer got the point, keeping his serious face on. “No,” he said embarrassingly seeing that he took the anger a little bit above. _I mean, it’s not like he knew or anything_. “Just don’t do it again…Or else I will!” He added. Spencer made a scouts honor, not wanting his cool cousin to hate him. “But we’re not here to learn that. It’s about time you gained some—” Baruch places his fist at the side of his head and extends his thumbs pointing to his head while giving his million dollar smile “— **COBRA CONFIDENCE**. And we’re going to use my simple three step plan to gain respect from people and yourself.”

“Three steps?”

“Yup, I use this three step plan in my everyday super star life and _everyone_ loves me.” He pulled out a picture of him standing on stage and shoving the rocker symbol in the air while everyone reaches out desperately to touch them.

“Wow!” Spencer exclaimed. He stared in awe, his respect points for Baruch increased by 5.

“I know.” Spencer being so impressed actually made Baruch feel pretty cool. He liked showing off, and he knew he was awesome, but demonstrating his awesomeness to specifically Spencer made him feel like…a hero if you will. Putting the picture away, he said, “Alright. Let’s get started. Step one,” one finger pokes out of his fist. “Be assertive and never let others tell you what to do. You see how you were playing with my guitar before and I told you to don’t touch my stuff ever again?”

Spencer nods.

While we notice that from Spencer, Baruch manages to put his solider hat on in a split second. He gets in Spencer’s faces and starts talking like a general. “DON’T TAKE THAT FROM SOME _SCRAWNY_ PRETTY BOY! They’re YOUR fingers, and you DO what you SHING DING WELL FEEL LIKE DOING WITH ‘EM, DARNNIT! Go PLUCK a STRING like it’s a BALALAIKA! THAT is an ORDER!”

Well if he insisted… But when Spencer reached to pluck a string, Baruch slapped his hand immediately. Retorting, Spencer apologizes.

“WHAT I TELL YA? DON’T LET ME TELL YOU WHAT TO DO! _PLUCK THAT STRING_!” When Spencer didn’t budge, he continued. “Are you waiting for a formal invitation to Pluck a String Island, bro? CUZ WE AIEN’T GOT THOSE KIND OF _SISSY_! PAPER PICKLES AROUND HERE! IN _MY_! _SCHOOL_!” Spit was going in 5 different directions.

Spencer felt stuck in a Catch-22 situation. “But I don’t want you to be angry at me.”

“Which casual brings us to step two. Don’t let others disrespect your being.” Out of the blue, Spencer’s cheek was slapped. It made his cheek sting and Spencer was staggered, confused. “I don’t like you and horror films suck.”

It was like a sharp arrow cut through his chest. He screwed it up already? And on the side he made him hate one of his most precious ‘jean-rays’! It’s like he’s under a curse to make everyone he speaks to hate him. Droplets of tears feel out of Spencer’s eyes, his heart stinging more than his cheeks.

“And that action brings us to our final step. Don’t cry (publically). Repeat after me, I shouldn’t cry, for all I care you could die.”

All Spencer could do was make a sad attempt at repeating the phrase through blubbers and stammers in his speech. Baruch grabbed hold of Spencer’s shoulders, pulling them and pushing them in a slow but rough motion.

Each pull and push had a syllable or two for him to say. “Get. It. To. Ge. Ther. Lit. Tle. Bro!” Spencer’s iris’s circled around his eye sockets and his head became top heavy. When he got his vision together, he continued dripping sad tears from his eyes. “This is going to take some work.”


	3. Silent Bro Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy makes a formal apology to Spencer while he sleeps

Billy was oblivious to his missing pocket comb or anything in his…existence. All he could think about was Spencer’s last words to him. This was very out of character. He knew Spencer respectively cared for Billy. He didn’t need Spencer to say so in speech. When he did, it spurred all types of surprised feelings from Billy, like somewhere in his mind he thought Spencer hated his guts just a little. Everyone he knew when he was alive hated his guts _at least_ just a little. If he’s shamelessly willing to say all of that, he really _did_ enjoy Billy’s company. This is greatly appreciated, but Billy knew this was more than he deserved.

Billy tore himself away from his memories and forced himself to look at his little bro, sleeping peacefully on the bed. He looked so chill and innocent _and adorabro_ , just like when he was younger. He flew to Spencer, floating just above his head. Dare he touch him, does he have the right? He was sleeping on his side, his face blank and peaceful. His hair the same shape it’s always been despite pressure, water, or lack of gel to keep it from defying gravity the way it does for unknown reasons no one questions. He was a good kid. He deserved better people to be around him than Billy. Billy had all the money, the fame, and the honeys. However, He never gave a second thought as to what was really important to him: his little bro. He was too busy having fun and being a forgetful toolbox.

Spencer will definitely hate him to the core if he remembers the promise he broke. He would much rather Spencer never see him again ignorant than he never see Billy again because that’s what he really REALLY wants.

And through all this secretive past keeping, all he wanted was to say he was sorry. He wanted to say sorry so hard.

The bright side to all this, he learned through a few months of being a ghost, is that he could say whatever he wants without anyone knowing. It’s very therapeutic to him to do and say what he wants without being ridiculed. Maybe he could do it now, apologize. Spencer will never know, and he can finally get this off his chest out loud in words. Flawless plan.

He lowered himself on top of Spencer’s bed, just a few inches from touching it. His body was in a beach chair position, and he stare up at the ceiling. Then, he looked at his orange shoes, twiddled his thumbs, took a deep breath, and began.

“I’m sorry.”

That was a good start. He felt a little bit better. He wanted to say more to him. “I’m sorry for breaking my promise to you. And for leaving you alone.”

Wow, this felt really good. He could make a lecture with this stuff. “I could tell you I was too busy being a pop star to keep it, but I don’t want to lie to you. Not in this situation. I am disappointed in myself to admit that I…I forgot about the whole thing. I had fun all day and night and never thought about you again. I feel horrible about it. It haunts me every—” he chuckled at the word ‘haunts’, “—It _bothers_ me every day to think of how you must have felt when I never came back. I never meant to hurt you if I did—” he choked on his sob.

His throat felt clogged. Taking his eyes away from his fabulous shoes, he looked at Spencer. This was the little dude he raised right here, 14 years old, high schooled, healthy little dreamer. He’s bullied, ignored, made fun of, yet he gets up every day ready to make his dreams come true, walking around liked he owned the place. He couldn’t be any more proud of him. “I never stopped loving you, know that much—” his voice cracked. The tears fell and he rubbed his eyes with his finger and thumb to keep them from getting too out of hand. He breathed another sigh. “Aw man,” he groaned. There he goes again sending out these weird vibes. Ignoring his guilt, he rubbed his little bro’s hair with his palm, the one he didn’t just rub his eyes with. He didn’t want another hair fiasco like last time.

“I’ll never leave you again. I swear. I’ll be by your side until the end of time. You just won’t see me, which is okay. You’ll never give me a despised look and you’d never have to struggle to forgive—” he felt something hard in his head. Warm plastic. Grabbing it he pulls it slightly out of Spencer’s hair. When he saw it, his stomach plummeted. “Is this my comb—?”

In flash of a second, Billy’s wrist was held down by a hand that belonged to Spencer. Spencer was wide awake, fully aware. And with that comb, he could see, touch…hear Billy.

“Spencer,” was all he could say. He was shocked and caught off guard. Plus he heard everything. What more _could_ he say?

They were there, froze in time, saying absolutely nothing for what felt like days. Spencer held Billy tighter and tighter in his grip, feeling as if he'd leave again if the grab was too loose. Finally, he said something. “Please tell me what happened, Billy.”

Billy said nothing.

“I don’t know _what_ you did that’s getting you off the hops about me getting mad. And since you actually _care_ you must’ve screwed up big time.” What does he mean by that? He’s a very caring bro. He dedicates most of his time making his bros feel special, right after they make him feel awesome (although he already is). “I don’t know if I’ll raise the roof with indignation or not,” he continued, “but I know that it won’t last forever. You’re a better than Rajeev and Shanilla combined—” (Spencer didn’t mean that truthfully, but this isn’t the time to make that noticeable) “—and no matter how much you screw everything up and get on my every last nerves, I would always forgive you, because screwing up is part of who you are. I like who you are, Baruch. I wouldn't want you to change in any shape way or form. So if you screwing up and me forgiving you is what makes this friendship last then,” Spencer looked at him, finally, giving Billy those puppy eyes he used to make when he’s sad. “let me forgive you.”

He didn’t call him Billy. He called him Baruch. And he pronounced it correctly. This wasn’t someone talking to the ghost of the late world famous pop star. This was someone talking to an old late friend he really knew well, someone who had a special place reserved for that person in his heart.

A place Billy doesn’t deserve to have one bit.

Billy balled his hand into a fist and lets it crumble the comb into pieces.

Billy made sure to give Spencer a nice, warm smile and a “Good night,” before he became invisible to Spencer. The last thing he felt was the tight grip from Spencer’s clutch on his wrist as he heard the comb crack in half. His fist cut through Billy like air and fell on top of his head. Billy watched as he sighed and pulled the covers over his head.

He’d never feel it, and Billy will never feel the satisfaction of demonstrating his love, but like the caring big bro-cousin he is, he kissed Spencer’s forehead good night through the covers, forgetting others can _feel_ _his_ _touch_. When Spencer felt the light pressure on his forehead, he knew that was Billy, and said, “Good night, Billy,” in a quiet, lonely voice. “I’ll miss you, dude.”

“I’d miss me too,” he smirked. “I’m _so_ great.” Then frown. He'll miss Spencer just a little bit less than he'll miss himself, and in comparison, that little bit's actually a whole lot.

 


	4. The Worst Husband Ever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy remembers their first adventure together while Spencer is in a deep depressed state and Billy tries to get him out of this rebellious funk.

They’ve been training for a good 4 hours straight, lots of blood sweat and tears were shed this afternoon, and with hard work, determination, and persistence, Baruch was able to say that he made this little maggot…

…into a professional larva.

This little guy can’t say ‘no’ if he was asked to have his eye cut out. He’s the most passive person Baruch has ever met. At first this was all a game, but now he sees he really needs to put some effort into this. _I can’t have my little bro go out into this harsh world the way he is. I’ll never be able to admit he’s related to me!_

“Okay,” he sighed after gliding a hand down his face. “From the top. Step 1.”

“Be assertive and never let others tell you what to do!” Spencer said with the most enthusiasm he could muster, which was a lot. He was determined to make Baruch proud this time.

Baruch carefully pulled out Spencer’s Frankenstein costume from last year’s Halloween session just so he could see that it’s out and in his hand. “Now, use step one to take this from me.”

Spencer gathered up his courage and went out with it. “That’s _my_ costume and I demand you give it back to me right now!”

“No.”

“Okay.” He slouched in defeat.

“No~o, little dude, come on! Alright. Step two.”

“Don’t let others disrespect you.”

With that, Baruch launched the costume at the ground with all the not care he could get. As Spencer gasped, and added a stomp to the thing for good measure. Keeping a straight face, he says, “That is probably the worst costume 15 dollars has ever had the _displeasure_ of being traded with.”

But he really liked that costume. He picked it out himself thinking it would be really cool. He spent hours choosing the right one. Was all his efforts of choosing really for nothing? Spencer’s eyes stung and his throat clogged up. Baruch could see what’s about to happen and mile away and gave him a strict finger. “No…NO! Rule three!”

Spencer puffed out his chest and held his breath thinking maybe that could stop the inevitable. “No crying,” he struggled in a high voice.

Baruch continued to point at him sternly, making sure he didn’t drop that tear. He kept talking to him like a dog, telling him, “No…” every time Spencer whimpers. “Suck that tear up right now…” After 9 seconds of trying to be a man, a tear managed to drop out of his eye. Knowing that he couldn’t do anything right, Spencer finally let’s out all of his tears and a howling cry. Baruch falls on his knees and defeat and then lets the rest of his face hit the floor. He moaned. “Du~de…”

“I’m sorry,” Spencer sobbed. He can’t do _anything_ right can he?

 _You better be,_ Baruch was starting to think. But as he gave an angry glare to Spencer, he then saw himself in him. He didn’t understood what that meant at the time, but it was part of those freaky vibes Spencer gives to Baruch. His chest _really_ hurts ad he couldn’t understand for them life of him why. _Is it something to do with his tears_? His face softened and he said, “Don’t apologize, little bro. Practice makes perfect, and not everyone is blessed to be as perfect as me. So what do we gotta do?”

After sniffling, Spencer sheepishly said, “Uhm…practice?”

“Right!” He sat up on his knees and extended his arms out to him. “Bring her in!” He’s kinda getting used to this ‘hug’ thing. It’s actually kind of nice when Spencer does it. Spencer ran into his arm with a warm smile in his face that made his insides all furry. Baruch folded his arms in and took in all of Spencer’s small frame on his belly. “You worked very hard today, and I’m proud of you.”

Spencer hugged Baruch’s tummy tightly, feeling very happy.

This moment was ruined by an aggravating, “LIGHTS OUT!” and the world around them became dark. Baruch frowned when Spencer yawned. A boy of his age shouldn’t be tired at this hour. He remembered staying up all night when he was his age doing whatever the heck he wanted because he was too fabulous to go to sleep. Spencer pulled away to go to bed, but Baruch was persisted to keep him in his clutches. “Big bro,” his voice was muffled in Baruch’s yellow shirt, “what is it?”

Baruch stared off into space, looking dramatically heroic like he practiced in the acting business. “No child deserves to live like this: going to bed at 7, getting a warm good morning from chores just to go to school afterwards, not knowing what it means to have a sleep over. This is bogus mutiny!”

“But I have to get up in the morning and—”

Baruch hushed his sentence with a “Shh…” and unnervingly slow pet on his head. He looked around the room. He saw the one window in his room (and/or the house), his guitar, and his overdue tour around the area, and got a plan. “Number 2 Spencil.”

“Mmhm?”

“Be on my head.” Baruch cups his hands under Spencer’s armpits and lifts him on top of his head with his torso on the skull and the other limbs in midair.

“And do what?” He asked grabbing for dear life on his cousin’s chin.

“I don’t know, look cute or something,” he replied crawling to his guitar while Spencer tried out his best adorable kitty face and making a fart noise when he stuck his tongue out. After grabbing his stings in a James Bond fashion, he tiptoed to the window, opened it, and looked out. It’s not a far jump down. Short doesn’t begin to cover how low this jump was. It’s actually insulting how low this window is. He was expecting more of a challenge. I mean, he can just _go_! It’s harder to escape from a Ziplock bag. What is this?

Not that he’s complaining.

Baruch made sure his guitar went out first. It hits the dirt very softly when Baruch placed it there and let it lean against the wall. Then he puts his foot over the window sill and lets his body follow through. But before he goes all the way out, he looked back at Spencer’s shabby old room. How long has it been since he stayed up this late? How long has it been since he left his room and the reason wasn’t related to school? He was doing a very good thing sending Spencer out unsupervised, past curfew, and against the authority of his elders. Spencer will grow up to be a very good boy under Baruch’s leadership.

He moaned in an intimidating low voice, “Bindiana Jones Cobra—”

“—and number 2 Spencil—” Spencer added happily, not understanding what’s happening but liking it

“—are out!” He hopped put the window, out of sight.

 

* * *

* * *

 

They were walking for a good 3 minutes before Spencer gained the guts to ask. “Where are we going, big bro?”

Baruch plucked a C-string, one of the three cords he knows. He kept walking due south thinking maybe something fun and interesting might pop up, but it’s just more land. Nothing but dirt ahead and forever it felt like. “I have all but the slightest idea, little dude.”

“How long do I have to stay on your head?”

“I dunno. Do you want to get down?”

“No. Your hair is buffy fluffy.” Spencer kicked his own butt with his heels. A memory crossed his mind and he covered Baruch’s eyes with his little hands.

“Woah, hide-and-bro-seek!” He chuckled.

“Go left!”

“Huh? Oh! I get ya!” After moving the guitar to his back while it hung on the strap around his shoulder, Baruch followed his orders and turned left, thinking it was right. Although Spencer had it right the first time, he thought he mistook his lefts from his rights and told him to go right instead. “Someone doesn’t know their lefts from their rights I see.” He made a quick turn towards the other direct while Spencer felt awkward.

A lot of false direction lessons and lots of turns later lead Baruch to wonder, “Where are we going little Jimmy Brolson?”

“To my secret spot. Don’t tell mom.”

“Oh, it’s cool. I can keep a secret.” Maybe if it’s awesome enough, he could get his business dealers to rent out the place and make it into his own fun haven where he could party all day…secretly.

“Thank you.” Spencer didn’t know why, but he liked Baruch. He was a lot nicer than anyone else he’s met, and he feels he could tell him anything. Baruch is like the brother he’s always wanted. Spencer was more than ready to release Baruch’s eye lids and let him see quite a site.

There was a little pond here. Literally little, big enough to fit him and Spencer about two times. It was surrounded by mud and stalks that Baruch for some reason never felt. The sunset reflected off the water and made a nice mixture of red, yellow, and orange. Baruch stared into it and saw himself and Spencer looking back at each other. Spencer was smiling innocently while Baruch was filled with surprise.

He is definitely beautifying this place dry…secretly…the second he gets home. “Woah, this is killer.”

Spencer beamed, feeling accomplished somehow.

“Where’d you find this place?”

“One time after school I kept walking and then I found it. I like to come here with my dad when he gets home from work, and we stare at the little alligator.”

“The what?” Baruch looked closer and say a small crocodile jet across his view. He didn’t question why a crocodile is alive in the middle of nowhere because, you know, why not? When noticed, he watched it with Spencer, feeling offended in placement of the crocodile. “Bro.”

“Yea?”

“Don’t be a racist. That is obviously a crocodile.”

Spencer could feel his face being warm. “Sorry.”

“It’s an honest mistake.” They looked at the little thing go, swishing back and forth. It was so small and cute! He just wanted to take it home and keep it forever! “What’s her name?”

He shrugged, “I dunno.”

“You didn’t think about naming her?”

“No.”

“Let’s name her.”

“Alright!”

As a pair, they came up with different names together. They were unaware of the mysterious creature that sprints through the stalks behind them looking like a shadow with red eyes behind the stalks.

“Tootie?”

“Nah.”

“Kitty Katswell?”

“But it’s a crochet diddle.”

The shadow creature inches closer and closer creepily with its revealed insect legs that were hairy and sharp.

“Sam Madison?”

“Nope.”

“Aw, I thought you’d like that one.”

The creature’s sharp red eyes glowed as it came near Baruch’s leg.

“I was thinking maybe Wanda.”

“I think Wendy sounds better.”

He gasped. “Choice name, little dude! She _looks_ like a Wendy. It’s settled then! The croc’s a—” He was interrupted by a low growl. It was the same low growl he heard the first day he was here. It reminded him of a bull dog growl. And bull dogs bite. “Spency Gonzales, do you have any dogs around these parts?”

“I dunno. All I see are vultures, cogey-dilies, and lady bugs.”

“Oh, okay.”

One of the insect legs poked Baruch’s leg twice so it could be noticed. Baruch as well as Spencer looked down at his side casually.

Its head was black and had big, beady, green eyes. Its antennae’s were swinging every which way like it was mad. The shell was a fire red and had black dots on both its wings. The legs were big and hairy and long. From its mouth and knees, it shot yellow fluids that smelled very foul, like garbage. Its roar was atrocious like a lion, tiger, and bear put into one loud scream.

Baruch was screaming like a little girl in a haunted house on Halloween with her parent nowhere to be found.

Spencer was as happy as a bee born inside a cake in Christmas. Woah! A real life man-eating ladybug, right there in his face! He was reluctant about going out past bed time, but now he’ll never regret going out unsupervised, past curfew, and against the authority of his elders if he had to miss _this_! “Cool!”

“Not cool!” Baruch shouts, ready to run. He was stopped by Spencer’s plea.

“Don’t forget Wendy!”

“Oh yea.” Getting out of his ‘ready-to-run’ pose, he curved his body to the side to scoop up Wendy, got back to his pose, and actually ran. Of course, the lady bug was right on their tails.

Baruch was screaming for dear life, hoping someone might hear them and help. Stalks smacked him stingingly in the face, but he paid little mind to them, only the mutant lady bug quickly following them from behind. Spencer was having the time of his life! It’s not every day you can say you went out with your cousin and you were being chased by a man-eating lady bug with a crocodile in your hands to your friends. Wendy was being held in Baruch’s arms, just chilling.

The lady bug was closing in on them, hungry for blood. Baruch was scared and confused, not knowing what to do. He was too young to die. So many songs to write, so many babes to surround him, so many big yachts to buy, so much money to make, so many moments to have with Spencer—

Wait, what the heck is that thought doing in there?

Oh well.

The point is he’s too famous to die today!

As a final resort, he gather as much air as he could in his lungs, and risked harming his angelic gullet to shout, “HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP,” to who it may concern. Like the angels were lifting him to heaven, Baruch began to float off the ground. He didn’t know what to fear anymore. The ladybug or the fact that he was 10 feet off the ground and counting. After a certain amount of air time, he travel 50 meters per second due West and it was so fast he could feel his cheeks trying to come off his face. Holy Fritos he could fly! He couldn’t stop screaming for the life of him.

Spencer raised his hands in the air like he was in a roller coaster, giggling. This is so much fun! “Wheeeeeee!”

Wendy was just chill’n.

After a short time past, the come to an abandon house that was on the verge of destruction only needing a nice rainstorm to make it go away. They were placed on the porch which was made from rusted, curvy metal that was bottled to whatever supported the floors. Baruch was still screaming while Spencer was getting all of his giggles out. Eventually, this screaming was becoming awkward. Spencer looked at Baruch for a few moments before he decided he should get him to stop.

What did mom always do when his baby sister was screaming this much? She’d give her a sucky thingy, but Spencer didn’t have those. Maybe he could suck on the peanut butter cookie in his pocket. Rummaging in his shorts pocket, he pulled out a cookie his mom gave him this morning for lunch. He doesn’t like peanut butter as much as he does chocolate chips.

He took a moment to ponder where his parents get their groceries from.

Positioning it right, Spencer dropped the cookie right into his cousin’s mouth. Baruch choked on it a little bit on the impact the cookie had on his orifice, but when he bit down, the crunchy peanut butter taste surrounded his mouth and he used the purpose of his throat to swallow instead. That was a _good_ cookie.

“Thanks, Betty Broker.”

“No problem.”

Suddenly, Baruch felt light headed and his knees felt weak. His head was throbbing like crazy. “Do you mind getting off my head?”

“Okay,” Spencer said as Baruch placed Wendy down. He picked Spencer up and off his head, folding his arm below his chest so Spencer could sit on it like a chair. He used his free hand to hold his head in place. Spencer’s arms wrapped around Baruch’s chest and he looked around. There were tall trees everywhere and vines in a way he’s only seen in picture books. He hasn’t seen this much jungle before in his life. He was half expecting monkeys to come out from the trees and take in Spencer as their monkey king. “Where are we, Baruch?”

“Your guesstimate’s as good as mine, little bro.” He scratched his head, trying to wrap it around the situation. So there’s a man-eating lady bug out to kill them, he could fly, and now they’re in a jungle when five seconds ago they were in the Sahara Desert. Either something freaky and supernatural is going down or there was something in that water he shouldn’t be having.

And he bets his mansion this wouldn’t have happened if this place had Wi-Fy.

“Wait, how’d you know my real name?”

“Auntie told me that’s what your name was.”

Dumb old hogget. Although, Spencer said it correctly. The only reason he didn’t like his name was because of the pronunciation difficulty. _I guess he could say it if he wants to_.

The sun was setting fast, and things were getting dark…and scary. This feels like the beginning of a horror movie. Baruch whimpered, holding Spencer closer.

“How are we supposed to get home?” He asked.

“I don’t know…” Spencer replied.

“M-maybe if we start walking—”

“NO! In the movies I’ve seen, the first victims go in the woods to get killed!”

“Well what do you think we should do?”

“We should go inside the house.”

“What? We don’t even know what’s in there. I don’t know what movies _you_ watched, but in the movies _I_ watched, going into an abandon cabin means you’re begging to be killed!”

“But Baruch—”

“No, little dude. I’m sorry, but we gotta scat!” As soon as that was said, Spencer escaped Baruch’s hold by levitation. Baruch gawked up at Spencer with awe. “You can fly too?” Holy beans, they’re a family of supers!

Spencer screamed. “No I can’t! Something’s grabbing me!”

“Oh man…” Not knowing what else to do, he jumped up and down to try and reach Spencer hoping he could activate his flying powers again. He had those hops back when was filming his basketball movie, _Jumping for Gold_ , but they don’t seem to be working today. This was _way_ easier with wires on his shoulders. “Spencer come down!”

“I can’t—” Suddenly the door was opened wide and leaving an echo of its _slam_. Spencer quickly levitates inside the house hold, calling for his big bro in fear.

“Spencer!” Ready to run, he added, “I’m coming buddy!”

“DON’T FORGET WENDY!” His voice rebounded.

“Oh yeah.” Picking up Wendy, he sprints inside after Spencer.

The house was dark and spooky looking. Vines were growing inside the house and the only source of illumination was whatever light was outside the windows. The floors were cold and smooth, like the air. Some outdated desk and chairs were scattered everywhere as well as the papers you can see every which way you look. Baruch didn’t like this at all, and neither did Wendy expressing this through her growl.

Baruch took a moment to ponder why he and Spencer assumed this was a girl and how you can tell a boy croc from a girl croc.

Baruch kept walking, slowly and cautiously, Spencer’s wellbeing promoting him to keep moving forward. Baruch hoped to whoever was up there that Spencer was okay. For some reason he feels really awful when bad things happen to him. Oh man where to look?

“Spencer,” he shouted. This place had _the best_ acoustics! “I’m here okay? It’s gonna be alright! You need to tell me where you are, okay? So when I say Marco, you say Polo! Marco!”

He heard nothing.

“Uhg boy….”

 

* * *

 

Shanilla rubbed Spencer’s back in her 193rd cycle, trying to use soothing words and wisdom to make him finally come back to school. He’s been absent for 3 days in a row, stuck in bed all day wrapped in covers like a caterpillar. Rajeev sat in the foot of the bed, thinking what he can do for his bro. “Spencer, please, get out of bed,” she begged. “I don’t know what’s going on with Billy, but who needs him? You’ll always have me.” She lets that sentence linger for a while before she realized there was a component missing to keep it from being awkward. “And Rajeev.”

Spencer hid his head deeper beneath the covers. Three nights ago, after Billy broke his comb, he was sad beyond recognition. He kept thinking if it was his fault why Billy was doing this. Was it something he said, is it Spencer in general, did he do something?

And when he got back to school the next morning, facing people like Lolo, Ponzi, Kleet, all alone was so difficult to bear. His life really sucks! Only now does he really appreciate all of the time and consideration Billy puts into Spencer. At least when he feels sad, Spencer always knows Billy will be there to brighten the day somehow. It’s like Billy was his safe zone whenever he feels down. Now that he’s gone, it’s like he has no reason to smile anymore. What’s the point of going to school if he has to face everyone hating him to no end?

But he should stop making his friends and family worry. “I’ll go tomorrow.”

Rajeev and Shanilla shot up right. “You will?”

“Yea, I just need some sleep today. And to be alone. I’ll see you guys.”

“Great!” Rajeev stood out of bed. “Good to hear you’re getting back up on your feet. Let’s go Shanilla.” Although Rajeev was ready to leave, Shanilla wasn’t that convinced. She knew Spencer; he wasn’t coming to school tomorrow.

But what more could she do? “We’ll see you later too.” She stood up to leave with Rajeev. Before entering the elevator outside, she took one last look at Spencer’s blanket covered back. Finally she left. Curious as to what they think, Billy went after them. He stood between them feeling awkward. “He’s not coming to school tomorrow.”

“What makes you say that,” asked Rajeev.

“I just know.” Billy didn’t have to question. He could feel it in Spencer’s voice. Unless there’s a horror convention going on during school, he’s not moving one hair out of that bed. “Stupid Billy. Why would he do something like this?”

“Yeah, I can’t do all the bro time by myself. It’s _hard_ to please that guy.”

“And besides that, Billy is his best friend. Didn’t he know how sad he’ll be if he left? What a selfish jerk that guy is!”

Each and every word from Shanilla stung him. “But I’m not selfish! You’re the one that’s selfish! You both are!” He doesn’t need this! He’s a world famous pop star! He ditched the scene, back to Spencer’s room (and/or his room) to find Spencer boarding the door to the elevator up using boards, hammers, and nails. Let’s not question what Spencer is doing with boards, hammers, and nails in his room.

Spencer just about hammered his last nail before he stopped. This will keep everyone out of his room so he could grief in peace. He sluggishly dragged his feet back to bed. Now that Billy could see him, he saw the black rings around his eyes, the depression in his cheeks, and the depressed interior. Oh man, when’s the last time he ate something?

Baruch fazed through the floors and ceiling until he came to the first floor where the kitchen was. He passed through the livingroom just as Rajeev and Shanilla were walking away to leave. Hugh watched them come in. “How my little man,” he asked, “did you get him out? Tell me you did.”

“Okay, we did,” said Rajeev.

The whole family slouched their shoulders with a smile and  _phew._ “Oh, that’s a relief.”

“We didn’t really though." Quickly added with a sheepish grin, "Hehe, but it’s nice to pretend.”

Everyone slouched in defeat. Jane was playing with her hair and frowning. “What’s wrong with my little boy? Was it something I said?”

“No Mrs. Wright,” said Shanilla, “It has nothing to do with you!”

“Then you know?”

Oh boy....If she told her the truth, she’ll reveal the presence of the ghost of Billy Joe Cobra. _Think of something quick!_ “Uhm, no. I don’t. I’m just saying, whatever _is_ wrong with Spencer, I’m sure it has nothing to do with you. It’s more likely than not it deals with school.”

Jane shot up wright [Getit?upw **right** haha]. “You mean like a school bully!?”

“Uhm,” _should I say yes? Technically it’s true. I mean it’s not the problem, but he does have bullies in school._ “Yea! Definitely! Something like a bully. Maybe that’s what’s—”

Hugh stood from his chair with a vengeance. “You can talk about me badly, you can talk about the way we live negatively, but when you go after my kids and/or wife is where I cross the line!”

“It was just a suggestion! It can be something else.”

Jessica swooped in making a Flying Crane martial arts pose. “Their biggest mistake was going after _my_ brother.” She kicked a nearby statue with a beautiful roundhouse. “Cause that’s like going after ME!”

“B-but it’s just a maybe—”

“Let’s hunt down every Beverly High pupil in the Hollywood and give them what for!” Jane shouts with just as much moxie. “ _No one_ makes my son a depressed stay at home boy without going through The Wright Family first! To the Wrightmobile!”

Everyone left the premises at a fast speed, hungry for vengeance.

Rajeev leaned in on his now anxious sister. “Smooth…” Billy flew passed them with a bowl of porridge in hand. No one took notice.

He took a new route outside the front door and up to Spencer’s open window to protect the porridge. Spencer was back in bed, looking very sad and pathetic. He pulled Spencer so he could sit before he offered him a spoon full of porridge. Spencer looked at the floating spoon and bowl and turned his head to the side. “Go away, Billy.” Spencer mumbled. He's not in the mood for this tool chest.

“No! Little du~de, eat it!” he persisted the spoon into his mouth, but Spencer kept moving his mouth away from it.

“You don’t have to spoon feed me drill bit! I can get food when I feel like it!” After many attempts, Spencer shouts out at Billy, “BILLY—!” giving him the opportunity to shove the spoon down his throat. Not wanting to choke on it, Spencer swallowed. But after that Spencer wrapped himself back in his covers. Why is Spencer doing this? Why is he ruining his health just because Billy’s gone? If he’s trying to get back at Billy, it’s not going to work, even if he has to force it to not work. First thing’s first is that he’s going to say hi to his family for the first time in the last 3 days. Billy turns his hand into the shape of a hammer and start taking off all of the nails using the end of it. Spencer took note of this from the sound and shot out of bed to Billy. “No Billy!” Marching up to him. He clawed at midair, grasping nothing. With this, Billy grabbed Spencer by the waist and held him by his side. Spencer kicked and wrenched as Billy pulled out more nails. “Let go of me, Billy! This isn’t funny!”

This is taking too long. Spencer’s starting to get free. Billy thought of taking the other route outside. Billy flew out the window, Spencer screaming by his side. They made 2 spins around the mansion and through the front door. Literally. Something Spencer can’t do. His butt smacked the door following his legs, back, and head in that order. He fell towards the platform of the house before Billy caught him with an enlarged hand and took him in pass the doors embarrassed. They flew to the living room, where Billy thought everyone else was. They must have gone somewhere. “Billy, for the last time. Put. Me. _Down_!” Billy, with nothing else to do with Spencer, finally sets him down on the couch. Giving a nasty glare to the air, Spencer spat, “Don’t you _ever_ touch me again, you ecto-covered moron.”

Who does Spencer think he’s talking to? He’s a world famous pop star! He could touch whatever he feels like touching. Maybe even _slap!_ it in the face to knock some sense into it!

Spencer’s head spun to the side and cheek stung. He looked back at the air with ten times more arched eyebrows then before. “So it’s a fight you want, huh?” He jumped out of his seat and took a starting boxer stance. But before that, he motioned Billy to come at him with his fingers. “Alright, buddy! Let’s tango!” Spencer was shocked to have been pushed to the ground and being stuck there with his hands pinned down. He kicked at the air to have no luck in the matter at kicking anything. “Make yourself dense and fight me like a _real_ man! Come on! Go get one of your hats or brushes or something and we’ll take it _down_ _town_!”

Billy watched him make a tirade and struggle wanting desperately to say something to him. Like how he’s being an idiot or ask him why he’s doing this to himself is or, considerately, why Billy’s doing this in the first place.

Spencer eventually tired himself out. He huffed and puffed, some steam out of his system. His chest rose and fell hysterically. His eyes were still filled with venom, which scared Billy. Spencer's been angry once in a blue moon, but never _this_ angry.

“I hate you.”

Billy would never imagine how much those three words would hurt him. If it was anyone else, he could care less or maybe beat one or two senses into them. Can’t be a pop star without expecting some haters along the way. He hears those words all the time. But from this specific person in the context it was in, it depressed his life...his being in more ways he could never imagine it to.

“You know something," Spencer started, "I’m actually glad you left. You ruin everything. Every time I come to you for help for reasons only heaven knows what, you just make it worse. What am I saying? You’re _mainly_ the cause for all my problems! You’re a dumb…dumby…” Spencer tried to conjure a mean comparison in the next 2 seconds. “Pebble in a shoe! That’s what you are! You’re the pebble in my shoe!

“You’re a stupid talentless waste of ectoplasm, and annoying needy guy that's the worst one in bromantic history, and an insulting disgrace to all pop music artists and actors in history! And you know what else? Miss Blah Blah is the best artist I have _ever_ heard in my entire life and I have _all_ her songs on my MP3! None of yours!” That wasn’t true, most of Billy’s music was in his computer naturally, and he doesn’t know who Miss Blah Blah is personally, but he knew that would get under Billy’s skin.

Billy jaw dropped lower with each word Spencer sizzled at him. What really ticked him off was the part about Miss Blah Blah. He’s a way _way_ better music writer the she is. How dare he? What right does he have to judge! It’s not like he could do any better! “It’s not like you can do any better!”

Spencer could feel the wind of Billy’s shout on his face. “You got something to say, say it to my face you transparent sissy!”

“I will, jerk!” He shouts, reaching a long arm for his cowboy hat. He was going through a cowboy phase at some point when he was alive. He smacks the hat on Spencer, and Spencer could see the Billy Dumb Cobra finally after three days.

“As you were saying?”

Billy lets go of Spencer's wrist to fold his arms. “I was saying how you couldn’t do it better than me!”

“Oh can’t I?” Spencer got up with his elbows and sat on his butt to get a good face-to-face chat with Billy. Let's see what's on his mind.

“No you can’t! You’re too busy making your F-class loser movies to be any better than me at everything entertainment related ever!”

“Oh yeah?"

"Yeah! I'm always barfing right after helping you in your gross films and their disgusting plot sequences. You can't AFFORD any of this!" Billy gestured his body. "THIS makes MONEY! You're a fake reincarnation of Stephen King who wish he could have the privilege of looking at the bottom end of my shoe!"

"At least the movies I make are cooler than yours!”

“ ** _Cooler_**? You think watermelon heads and cactus monsters are cool? That’s just dumb!”

“It’s art! It’s not something cliché like kungfu masters or the chronicles of a surfer boy!”

“The fans of those ‘cliché’ movies beats your laughable amount by 0 to THE WHOLE DARN WORLD!”

“I do not have 0! I have like 500 and I didn’t use a hypnotic song and promotional advertising to get those fans! I earned them!”

“I earned mine too!”

“Admit it! You were nothing without those big signs and fancy titles spouted from a chick who made you look cooler than you actually were! If it weren’t for that, you’d be a pretty boy wannabe Michael Jackson who’s the worst artist ever!”

“ _YOU’RE_ the worst artist ever!”

“You’re the worst musician ever!”

“You’re the worst film director ever!”

“You’re the worst _friend_ ever!”

“You’re the worst **_husband_** ever!”

“You’re the worst—!...Wait, what?”

Aw no, that’s slipped. How can he cover this up?

You know what? Whatever! If Spencer’s not going to hold anything back, Billy shouldn’t have to hold anything back either. “Yeah! You’re a horrible husband! You don’t pay attention me, you use me, you never trust me, you don’t even _remember_ me!”

Spencer sat there trying to process these words. “…What?” Billy came close to his face spouting words that don't appear to come into one sentence correctly.

“We’ve been unofficial soul mates for the past 9 years and you don’t remember me? Why should I have to keep this whole thing a secret? This should have clicked--" he snapped his fingers "--5 decades ago! I can't believe you forgot your _own_ vow to your fiancée! Why aren’t we arguing about me breaking my promise, huh?”

“…What?”

Billy flew back, pinching his forehead. “I knew that was a stupid idea! You’d tell me anything to shut me up, wouldn’t you?"

"I...what?"

Billy crossed his legs and arms and gave Spencer a devil glare. "I’m sick and tired of trying to make this work and you not meeting me half way! If you hate me that much then fine,” He pushed an imaginary button and levitated himself through the floor keeping his scowl, “I officially declare this engagement **_OVER_**!”

Spencer watched him go with wide eyes and a blank mind. It took a moment or two for Billy to remember the hat. He passed an arm through the floor, grabbed the hat, and ripped it to shreds with both his hands. Then he officially left the room with a, "Done, over, zilch! Saiyonara Ex-husbro!" and a rockers symbol, leaving Spencer dazed and confused.

“…What?”


	5. One True Bro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy regrets what he said before while Spencer finds something unexpected about Billy he can't remember

Did that just happen?

Did Billy really just say that?

Ugh boy…on no. Nononononono.

No _no NO_!

He needled it big time before, but nowhe really screwed it up tight! What was he thinking? What was his best case scenario for telling Spencer that? He’ll say sorry? _Unlife doesn’t work that way Billy! You don’t tell people awkward things and expect them to see your way and apologize!_ That was back when life was easy. In the afterlife, stuffs gets real! He wished he could have thought of that before he told Spencer something that maDE ABSO _LUTELY N **O SENSE**_!

Billy floats around the garage at a quick pace, biting his nails and thinking of how to fix this. He extends all his limbs with a big smile when he came up with the best plan ever! He’ll use the oldest bro trick in the book just for situations like this: Pass it off as a joke! It never fails! They’ll both laugh about it, hug and tickle, and Billy can go right back to being an invisible entity forever haunting his HB4L until he dies from old age. He is _seriously_ underappreciated for his vast cobra intellect….

Billy popped his head through the ceiling with his best prankster grin and the hat he got when he was going through a Gothic Circus impresario phase. He spun his head back and forth and found no one in the room. “Spencer?” he called out knowing he won’t get an answer. Where did he go? Geez, Billy’s been gone for a long time; Spencer could be anywhere by now. He proceeded to other places like the kitchen, the Tiki Room, the bedrooms of his relatives-in-law, and bathrooms. Man, he has a really big house! He finally checked the pool where he found Spencer…not present ;(.

He just about flipped the place upside down! Where else could Spencer be? Well there’s no other place than around town to look. Ugh, so much extra work. Today was so angsty and non-comedic, too much for comfort. He needs a nap. _I’m sure Spencer’s fine,_ wherever he is. He needs some time to think about what Billy said to him anyway. I mean, how would _he_ feel if a chick he’s come to love like a sister came up to _him_ and said they were engaged. Yikes!

 _You think Spencer might remember if he thinks about it too hard?_ Billy begins to question if it would be a good or a bad thing if he does remember. Spencer can remember all the times they shared, their adventures, the good old days, their proposal…including Billy breaking his end of the deal. No, it’ll be horrible if that were to happen. He CANNOT let that happen, or at least pray it doesn’t.

 

* * *

* * *

 

You know that yellow BJC van near palm trees at the side of the house that some of you didn’t pay attention to and some of you noticed and wondered what the heck was the story that made this van stuck at the edge of the cliff like it is? Sometimes Spencer likes to go in here and see if he could find any fun facts about Billy he could use to black mail him. He didn’t find much. All he could find were cleaned out refrigerators and cabinets, Billy’s secret stash of guitars he thinks Spencer doesn’t know about, and this strange box full of things dedicated to his “One True Bro”. It was at the back of the room and stuffed inside a dresser with a big mirror surrounded by lights and promotional phrases about how awesome Billy was marked with a permanent marker. The box was had a polka dot decoration and was shaped like a box with a lid, but it was a big box, as big as the width of his chest. Inside were knickknacks, notes and pictures of Billy and a little person whose face was always blocked by Billy’s thumb. On the back of those pictures were little notes of what it was. _Me and [Insert Bro Pun Here] eating caviar (dude’s got the stomach of ten bros), Me and [Insert Bro Pun Here] sleeping at Joseph Le Bro’s (isn’t he adorabro?), Me and [Insert Bro Pun Here] playing the guitar (he’s the king of bromazing)_.

The box also had little letters in there connecting to this bro fella.

_-My mom gave me this to jot down some memories or whatever so she’ll know what I’ve been doin' outside. Nosey old Vlad Plasmeus._

_-My OTB did the dumbest thing today! He tried to look at this ectofied vulture up close because it was ‘so cool’ and almost died getting eaten by it! Thank goodness I got him out just in time. Sometimes I think he doesn’t understand the concept of DEATH!_

_-My little bro got bitten by Wendy today. He had to be taken to the hospital which I bet is thousands of miles away and I’m stuck here with mom, my cousin Jenifer-or-whatever, and her baby. This is ultra-illegal brutal torture. I hope little dude’s okay and he comes back soon. I miss him._

There was one note in particular Spencer wanted to read again. He figured this was too personal to use as blackmail, so he didn’t read the rest and forgot about it. Now that Billy brought it up today…Spencer needed to know….

- _It’s been over two years since I touched this thing. But I want to write it down so I could remember the promise I made for my OTB…now my fiancée ^///^._ (This is where Spencer stopped before. Now he keeps going)

_He finally came over after all these years. He’s grown a little bit and he’s seven years old now. I was so excited to show him around my new crib! For some reason his family came over too. I think my mom gave them extra tickets, dumb old bean pole. I couldn’t show him much because everyone was being so annoying and touchy with my things. I had to keep them in the first floor until the day was done, and it was a havoc. It really sucked because I had a road trip tomorrow too and this was my only day to hang out with him._

_Everyone left, but little bro stayed hiding in my room. No one noticed he was missing, not that I’m complaining. We did just about everything stupid I could think of, most of it involved us almost dying, which was great. It was just like the old times. The only problem was my conscience telling me I had to bring him back soon._

_Eventually, I couldn't take the guilt anymore and decided to call a plane to send him home (first class). I was bummed about it, cause he’ll be back home and I’ll be 10 times more busy and have 99% less time for breaks the older I get. There’s writing songs, making them famous, being in movies, making them famous, being a superhot model, and then partying all night blowing off all the money I made through being awesome (_ Spencer rolled his eyes _). I won’t see him again. ;(_

_But before he left , he did something really cute! He gave me a ring pop and proposed to me saying he wants me to be his bride. I tried explaining him how this marriage thing was supposed to work, but he made a good point saying it’s done by two people who really love each other. I thought about that. When I look at myself in the mirror, I get all gushy and happy and all I want to do is shout how much I love myself. I didn’t notice until now that I had those same feelings for him. I want to be with him forever and take care of him and hug him just the way I want to do with myself. The thought of being committed to him and making movies together and growing old together living happily retired made my heart flutter. I never felt this way about anyone else but myself. It felt magical, and I wanted it forever. I didn’t know if he was serious or not, but he was right. This was okay. We both love each other and this was perfectly fine. I said yes._

_So when we’re both old enough, when he’s 18 and I’m 27, he has first dibs to be the one to plant a fat old ring on my finger. That’s my promise to him. Just imagining it makes me feel all sorts of joy, nothing girls or sunshine or big yachts or money could ever provide me. This was the best day ever. I think I’ll write a song about it later._

Spencer swallowed hard. He thought back of the things Billy said: _“We’ve been unofficial soul mates for the past 9 years and you don’t remember me? Why should I have to keep this whole thing a secret? This should have clicked 5 decades ago! Why aren’t we arguing about me breaking my promise, huh?_ ”

 _Am_ I _that kid he was talking about this whole time?_ No, he would surely remember making a proposal like that! I mean he’s talking to a world famous pop star! He should remember that! It’s an experience you don’t forget! Is Billy one of those ghost that mistakes their lover for a look alike? No, he died less than a year ago; that’s only for ghost who existed for a long time. Billy would know him when he saw him.

But it can’t be Spencer! Spencer would know he did that. He doesn’t remember it at all. His childhood had nothing to do with Billy, nothing! This is all making less and less sense! Who is this guy? Who’s his fiancée?

At the bottom of the box, there was one more picture. Curiously, he dug it out. The contents made him lose his breath. A boy in a brownish grey jacket, black spikey hair, drowsy black eyes holding up a camera phone above him. His arm was wrapped around a small brunet in a red shirt with a white were wolf on it and no shoes. He was soundly asleep. He really _really_ looks like…

No!

This made no sense! He wasn’t there at the time, he’d know! He would know wouldn’t he?

Spencer flipped the page over and discovered something that got his heart starting again, working harder than ever before. That effort was shone on his cheeks when they flushed. “B-Billy…”

_No more thumb bombs for the best picture I could take. The soon-to-be Baruch Wright and soon-to-be Spencer Cohen finally sharing a bed. I love you Spencer._


	6. Long Lost Fiancee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer tries to figure out what to do (it takes him nowhere).

Spencer can still feel the picture in his hands, and the contents were engraved in his eyes like a tattoo. He might as well still be holding it. He rubbed his eye lids trying to maybe erase it or pass it off as some weird dream, but his body refused. The evidence that he once made a promise to marry the dead pop star one day refused to get out of his head. Spencer was in that picture, with Billy, at whatever time they did it, and Billy wrote a note about what story that picture had to tell.

It’s just hard to…remember he was in it.

Spencer remembers his first video game, his first camera, his first horror film, he remembered seeing his mother come home with his baby sister in her hands. He recalls absolutely nothing about Billy, NOTHING. He didn’t know who BJC _was_ until he _moved here_. He can remember seeing Billy Joe, asking him who the heck he was, having no idea a famous pop star like him was alive…at one point. Spencer would know if he’s been with Billy. I mean he understands that he was little and all but he should remember SOMETHING! He doesn’t know _how_ _many_ _times_ he has to emphasize that he’s talking to a WORLD. _FAMOUS_. **_POP_** **_STAR_**!

What should he do about this? How should he confront Billy now? Spencer couldn’t think of anything else to do except hide out in this van, knowing he can’t do that forever. He has to face Billy at some point. If he doesn’t come to him himself, Billy will get in here at a time, find him, see what Spencer found, and they’ll HAVE to say something. Seeing Billy again, thinking of that made him nervous like a squirrel. He scratched his head where the he had a random bump, a nervous habit.

Spencer thought of what to do about this information. Should he stick to the promise? He has no reason not to, but Billy…well Billy’s a…you know….Suddenly he couldn’t stop thinking about all the girls in the world. Mallory—his crush, Lolo—his arch nemesis, Shanilla—a really nice girl and the sister of his best friend, Jessica—his sister, Ms. Rumsfeld—his homeroom teacher, all of those girls. Why did he suddenly start thinking about girls after thinking about being Billy’s fiancée? Is this some sort of defense mechanism against…? Well…you know…

Spencer laid on a pull out bed he found on the back seats. It flipped open to a picture of younger Billy pointing out of the poster and it was surrounded by hearts and purple fluffy stuff. He didn’t know how he knew it was there, but for some reason this was expected from Billy. He had no reason to expect it though. Not much thought was put into it. Spencer tried to sleep and get his mind to settle before he went back home where Billy is.

Spencer slept on the edge of the bed with his knees bent and his arms tucked under his head. From time to time he’d find himself unconsciously reaching for the other side of the bed and grabbing air to try and hold something. He reaches, thinking something will be there for him to grab on to. The shock that something was missing keeps waking Spencer back up and feeling his own shoulders instead of the thing he wanted in his arms. When asleep, he knows what it should feel like, how big it is, plushy, and when the shock comes to him, the feeling escaped his mind like a rat in a cell made of bread.

And sometimes when he does this, he’d wake up feeling his mouth pronouncing the ‘buh’ sound.

By then, he would turn to the other side, sleeping in a more casual pose, and that want for something in his arms went away. For the rest of the few hours he spent in here, he tried to stay away from that corner so the weird feeling doesn’t come back.

What does he expect on the other side?

* * *

 _  
_ _And when his home is near,  
_ _he knows I gotta hear, “I love you!”_  
That means, he loves me.

“ _Cause when I look into this boy’s eyes_ ,” Billy sang, “ _it drives me all insane_.” He felt like plucking a string. Maybe a self-serenade can help him calm down. He flew over to his van where his guitars were hidden while singing a song that strongly reminded him of Spencer. It was the original version before he had to make it more down to earth and about what’s real—Himself. “ _Bea~cause~ he~ lo~ves me~_.”

He made it to the side of his van, itching to hear this song with some notes in the background. “ _He knows I gotta hear_ ,” He phased through the windows, “‘ _I love you!_ ” for quite the surprise.

Spencer was in here.

His Spencer shrine was out.

The best picture he took was on the floor next to Spencer who was sleeping on the bed in which they slept together for the first time (on a bed at least).

Billy sighed. Maybe this wasn’t the _best_ place to hide his guitars after all. Despite all his efforts, Billy couldn’t hide Spencer from the truth.

Does Spencer remember?

He could see he found the pull out bed they last slept in together, and chill’n. How does he feel right now? Is he sad, or maybe what Billy feared—angered?

What to do now?

Wait until he wakes up he guesses. He can’t avoid the matter much longer. Spencer _knows_.

Billy watched Spencer roll on the edge of the bed. From there, he curled his legs and tucked his hands under his head, back hunched. _He’s sleeping like the first time we were here_. Then Spencer pulled his arms out from under his head and reached for the other side. He was whining, calling out, “Buh…buh…”

He knows he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help but lay next to him and being that things he needs to grab. Spencer’s hands passed through him like he was water making Billy chuckle. He keeps forgetting sometimes people can’t feel him when they can’t see him. _I can blame Spencer for that,_ he guesses. Billy pulled out his circus hat from his back and plopped it on Spencer’s head.

We will not question how a hat can fit into his pocket or where he pulled that hat out of in the back end.

Spencer’s hands could feel something. It fits his requirements perfectly. This is the thing he wanted to hold! He could vaguely picture it in the back of his eye lids: it had a blue shirt, a white tie with blue frogs on it, and some leather gloves with the fingers cut off. He grabbed it and held it tight, having contradicting feelings of joy and despair, and thinking even though it’s here with him now it’s going to leave him at any moment, gone forever.

Billy held Spencer while he kept repeating the, “Buh,” sound. What was he trying to say? Billy? Baruch?

“Buh…big…big brother…”

Billy eyes widen for a few seconds before the corners of his mouth went down. He can’t remember the last time Spencer called him that. It was the one thing that lets him know Spencer looked up to him for guidance and leadership. While he doesn’t need that from Billy anymore (or wants it most of the time), it’s nice to hear that it’s still there—the memory of his necessity for Billy’s presence. “I’m sorry!” Billy cuddled Spencer as tightly as he should have when they were here previous. “I won’t leave you again.”

Spencer hugged this figure with the same strength, hearing those words being repeated through his dreams. A void in him he never knew existed was filled with this figure. He doesn’t know what’s happening, but he likes it.


	7. Spencer's First Horror Adventure Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baruch tries to find Spencer in a creepy place while you learn Spanish.

“Spence!” In a sad attempt to get a reply in this vast cavern, he kept calling. He was shouting for him for the last few minutes or so, too long. “Marco!” Each step was harder than the last, darker than the last. The sounds of his heels bounced off the walls. Maybe his heartbeat too. It was banging behind his chest begging to escape. “Spence!” He keeps calling, and he gets no answers. He saw him go in! Why can’t he see him? Baruch, realizing that Spencer wasn’t responding, was beginning to gain another feeling he didn’t understand. He thought of the worst case scenarios, hope was being lost, shivers ran down his spine with each reply that wasn’t there. All that ran in his mind was seeing Spencer one last time safe and sound. And with those thoughts came more thoughts of finding Spencer actually _not_ safe and sound, but hurt, brutally injured, or worst…. “SPENCER!”

“Baruch!” The voice was like an angel from the heavens in his ears.

He let himself breathe, now noticing he didn’t take a nice deep breath until now. He felt a grin grow in on face as he wiped beads of sweat from his forehead. He could feel his knees trembling like they were Jell-O. He scanned the area, left and right, frantically. “Where are you, buddy?”

His left leg was compressed by something. Baruch looked down to find Spencer hugging his legs for dear life, smiling like a kid in Christmas. Baruch could feel something flush out his guts and be replaced with all the good things in the world when he saw his little brother safe and sound and wearing big round glasses for reasons he won’t question. His body kept contradicting with himself. Should he smack him or hug him or scold him or preach him? Baruch didn’t know _what_ to do with Spencer right now. “Spencer!” He felt himself exclaim. “I thought something horrible happened to you!” He plucked Spencer’s forehead. Hard. “Don’t you _ever_ do that again! Don’t fly away like that without taking me with you! _Comprende_?”

Spencer had his hands on his forehead, nodding. “I’m sorry, big bro!”

Placing Wendy on Spencer’s head, Baruch crouched down to pick the little fella up in his arms and let himself sigh. He squeezed him with all the strength in his muscles, and it felt so cozy. “You better be.”

Spencer hugged his cousin’s neck, accepting all the love he was being given. He was so _excited_ to tell Baruch what he found today, vibrating with anticipation! “You'd never guess what I found—!”

Baruch pulled him away to inspect Spencer’s being. No scratches bruises or anything traumatizing. He could say he got him just the way he found him if it wasn’t for those glasses. Questions flew out his mouth faster than he could think of them. “Where did you go? What happened? You hurt anywhere? How’d you fly like that? Why are you wearing those big glasses?”

“I found a—!”

“You know what, never mind.” Baruch held him tight enough to pop his head off. “The important thing is that I’m safe and beautiful as always.” He spun on his heels, cool as a cat. He walked. “Let’s get the whip cream out of this joint!”

Spencer pushed against his bro’s chest and looked at his face with puppy dog eyes. “But Baruch—”

“NO! We are out of here like yesteryear, Jimmy Broslen!”

“But we _can’t_ leave.”

“Ex-Spence-sive shirt,” Baruch halts his footing and places the little guy down. Wendy curled into a doughnut and was sound asleep on Spencer’s hair. He made sure to talk slowly and extended each word he said. “I get that this is your ‘first horror adventure’ or whatever, but in those things, people die. I do not wish to die today. I do not want you or Wendy to die either. And something people in horror movies didn’t do to prevent that from happening was leave while they still can. And that is what we will do so we do not die. Do you understand, little bro?”

“But listen—” Baruch grunted “—Mr. Jake’s Staff said that we aren’t allowed to leave.”

Someone else is here? “Mr. who?”

By then, Spencer gazed into midair looking at something. Wendy followed his gaze when Spencer’s head moved, and she was indignant out of nowhere. Baruch looked at that direction too to see what all the hub bub is but saw nothing but black, rotten wall. “Sorry,” Spencer said cowering at the air. Wendy growled at the sky. He looked back at Billy. “I meant ‘Mr. Joe Seth La Ball’.”

“Joe Seth La Ball?” The feeling it had on his tongue felt familiar. He couldn’t put his finger on it what it was. He said it again and again, faster and faster, until he ended up with, “Joseph La Bel? He’s a famous French chemist that died a little less than 2 years ago. A dead chemist told us to stay here?”

“What’s a Kim Mist?”

Baruch didn’t have time to answer. A white lab coat was floating in midair near them, leaving him confused. It was long and had pocket protectors with pens inside them. There were dark splotches on it like cheetah prints in the color of the rainbow. It had no body or face, a floating coat with no one owning it. Were there strings tied on it or something, non-seeable strings like he uses on his sets maybe? “Are we on a stage set?”

“What’s a stash seat?”

Wendy was still growling at the floating lab jacket, Spencer waved at it. It mirrored the motion back at Spencer. “How’d you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Make it wave.”

“I didn’t do that. He did.”

“He who?”

“Mr. Joe’s Beth.”

“I don’t know whether to call that cute or annoying.”

“Call what?”

“Nothing.” Baruch skipped about face and moved out of here. “Let’s go.”

Everyone except Wendy didn’t noticed the floating lab coat following them from behind, swishing its sleeves frantically like it was mad. Wendy growled at it like a dog, being about to see the owner of the coat as well as Spencer. He looked over his shoulder nervously. “I’m sorry, Joe,” he said to nothing. The lab coat was swished around and thrown at Spencer, making him stop on a dime. After looking at the coat for a few seconds, he looked into midair with his glasses still on. “I got ya Joe!”

By this time, Baruch came back with his hands on his hips. “Little dude!” He came back calling, “Who are you talking to?”

“Joe.”

Maybe it’s some sort of imaginary friend thing. Kids have those. That’s mega normal…Right? “Can you talk to him later? We are taking the next bus off creepy pasta central, remember?”

“Can you wear this coat first?” Spencer held up the lab coat. It being a bit over sized for his stature and was dragging on the floor in a crumbled heap. Wendy kept growling at the lab coat threatening to attack something somewhere at any point of time. Spencer tilts his head up a bit to see Wendy’s nose. “Wendy?”

Baruch has noticed this behavior from Wendy for a while, but now all this growling it starting to concern him. “What’s wrong with Wendy?”

Spencer tips his head to the side and listened to nothing. Then he replied, “Joe said that she’s in Tim mid-dated by him and his things and that I should give you this coat before Wendy bites—”

Her maw stretched like a rubber band and she took a mouth full of the tattered fabric. Instinctively, Spencer yelped and let go as soon as she jumped off his head.

Billy hopped back and did his best kung-fu stance in a millisecond. “Wah-CHAAH!” He eye’d her suspiciously as she shredded the thing into pieces. When she was done, the lab coat was a ragged mess on the floor, its remains scattered everywhere. After yawning, Wendy rolled herself into a ball and went back to sleep. Baruch kept an eye on her for a few seconds before he said, “Well that was improbable.” He processed the other direction while whistling a tone.

Why couldn’t he do it before it happened? Why can’t Spencer do anything right? Bubbles of tears were on his eyes when he heard his big brother’s words in his head—REGLA _NUMERO_ **_TRES_** _!_ Spencer stopped himself from crying by holding his breath and straightening his back, rejecting the eye waters. It really hits you in the throat, but he’s a big boy in big boy pants (shorts really). And big boy pants wearing big boys don’t cry! They think of cool things to do like his big brother/cousin would do.

He could hear Billy threatening at the other end of the hall so Spencer would come over. Spencer stayed in place, thinking of what to do. Billy _has_ to see this. Not only is it cool but the fate of the world is at stake! Was there something _else_ he could use? Spencer’s grin grew from ear to ear and a light bulb shines above his head when he thought of something in the laboratory he could use.

We will not question where a random light bulb came from, its power source, or where it disappear to.

He ran forward as fast as his little legs could get him, super excited.

Baruch called him again and took the effort to come back finding Spencer not there. A millisecond before he was completely gone, he caught Spencer running down this dark and suspicious hall. “Ugh!” He moaned slapping his face with his hand. “Spencer get back here!”

A second too soon before he made the first running step, Spencer reminded, “Don’t forget Wendy!”

“Oh right.” He took a moment to notice how cute she looks a sleep like that, “Dawww,” grabbed her from the floor, and proceeded the chase leaving a puff cloud behind him. “ _Spencer_!”

From behind, a book was floating and following them while, periodically, the pages turned and turned. You can hear a faint echo of the words, “My, my, do I detest the remnants of my hoary work.”

* * *

* * *

 

_“I’m gonna miss ya, little brotien.”_

“I’ll miss you too…” Spencer mumbled not knowing who he’s talking to. _Sounds like something Billy would say_. “You gonna come visit…?”

_“Heck yea! Wendy and I’ll come every year. We’ll visit Joseph and all the others and have some fun like we used to._

“Mmhm…”

_“And when you’re 18, I’ll have everything prepared for our ceremony, and we’ll get married by the pond, and you can put whatever horror themed things you want in there and you can hear all the new songs I wrote for you. It’s going to be great!”_

He felt a smile growing on his face. “I can’t wait until I’m 18. I’m going to be big and tall. Even taller than you…”

_“We’ll see about that, short stuff.”_ Spencer didn’t feel it, but he knew his forehead was kissed by a presence. _“Go to sleep. Your head it’ll feel better in the morning.”_

“I hope you’re there in the morning…”

Spencer was expecting an ‘I will,’ but he never got one.

_“I love you lots, Spencer.”_

“I love you lotty totty too, BB….”

_“Who do ya love?”_

He had trouble saying the word. All he can recall was a B. “B…Buh…Buh…” Buh and a what? What’s the name? “Beh….Bi….Br….” His head was throbbing like a hammer was hitting this one spot again and again. Spencer swished his head side to side in a nervous ire. “Buh—buh!” His eyes shot open like his body shot up. “Bah!” The first thing he saw was the chin of a dead pop star behind a dark purple feather. “BILLY!”

Billy’s body erected immediately to a defensive pose making Spencer slip off his body, thankfully landing on the bed. “Who?! What!?” He scanned the place in confusion feeling groggy. “Huh?” He caught Spencer bouncing on the bed with his back. “Little bro?” It’s a habit Billy can’t help, sleep floating. He guessed he carried Spencer in the air with him while he…while _they_ slept. Billy felt himself smile at that thought which disappeared as soon as it came when he met Spencer’s eyes. “Oh.”

In chorus, they both moved their eyes somewhere else besides where they are and twist their bodies against the direction they were from. They were clearing their throats and Billy whistled. Neither of them knew how to confront his best bro who was also, apparently, his fiancée. They began at the same time and shamefacedly stopped their speech. “You first,” Spencer said. He wasn’t ready to talk to him to him about it.

“You mad?”

Spencer peered over his shoulder. “Why would I be?”

He could see Billy’s back slouched and depressing like an old man. “Because I haven’t been Even Steven with that promise ever since I wrote it and completely forgot you all together.” It hurts every time he says it out loud.

Not that Spencer can remember Billy at all in his childhood, he certainly doesn’t remember a visit any time after he was 5 or whatever. With his lack of memory, he has no reason to end their friendship over it. “That’s okay,” he said facing the front. Billy finally saw Spencer and his back after hearing that. “You’ve been with me for nearly a year. You’ve more than made up for your days, I think.”

Billy soared next to Spencer, criss crossing his legs and staring at him like he just saw his mother in the tub by an accident. “For real?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not raising the roof with indignation? At all?”

“Nope.”

He just forgave him. Just like that. He thought there would be dramatic scenes going back and forth off the walls but no. That was it. _That was easier than I thought_. He felt a little silly about the whole thing now. _Destroying my belongings, worrying everyone half to death._ He can be so extra sometimes. “Great as a Steak, man! I thought you were going to be fast and furious at me!” What a relief. He can’t wait to go back to being bros and pretend this whole thing never happened. He leaned in for a hug. “Bring ‘er in, little dude!” It took him a few seconds to realize Spencer was leaning away from him. He stopped tilting over him by then but still had his arms out. Doesn’t Spencer want a hug? “Bring ‘er in?”

Billy always hugged Spencer. This is no different. This means nothing more than a hug from a bro.

“Bring ‘er…in?” His arms were bending itself, doubtful.

This is _no_ different. It’s just Billy.

“Spenpal?” His arms were defeated by gravity and drooped like wet noodles. “¿ _Tráela_?”

_No_ different. Just Billy.

“¿ _Hermano menor_?”

_No es diferente_.

“¿Estás bien?”

_Solo Billy_.

“ _Sí_ —I mean—yeah.” Billy’s random Spanish tongue sometimes gets to Spencer when he’s not paying attention.

“A Spence full of canned goods—” (spence is another word for a pantry or buttery but has been outdated since the 1900’s). “—you don’t want a hug?”

Slowly, without having an agreement with his brain, he shook his head and said, “No.” On a regular Tuesday, he wouldn’t care. Billy was Billy, and he liked hugs for whatever reason Spencer won’t question. But today Billy was someone else. He wasn’t his best friend right now, but a completely different person in memories too far for him to grab. “Maybe later.”

**Totally** cool. People aren’t in the mood to be touched sometimes, and that’s fine. “Cool,” Billy said [trying to hide the sadness in his voice (that was _never_ there to begin with)], “as long as you aien’t ticked. Let’s skidoo, dude!” Billy did a back flip and phased through the wall to exit. He tried his best to shadow his frown with his totally truthful smile, and he flies back inside the house. He could unbolt the boards while he’s in there so Spencer can go back in his room. And maybe when he’s done, he could hide in the garage and cry forever to practice for his movie scenes when he makes his comeback. The chicks love a dude that can cry on que.

Spencer opened the one of the nearby windows and passed through it head first. While jumping through it, Billy’s hat flopped off his head and lands on the bed. Spencer looked back at it. A small part of him wanted to go back to it, pick it up. A large part of him wanted to leave it, hope to never see it again for as long as he will live.

He listened to the majority.

* * *

* * *

 

He could hear a voice in his head yelling, “Turn back! You shouldn’t keep going this is dangerous! You’re too fabulous to die here! Turn back!” But it was a whisper compared to that obnoxious scream. “SPENCER! SPENCER! SPEEEEEEENCER!” And he knows that if the voice is louder, it is obviously more important. As he continued, Wendy growled deeply as ever so often at a wall she saw, a ceiling, or a floor. Baruch couldn’t understand what her deal was. It was probably girl problems with crocodiles or whatever. He knows a lot of girls who has hissed at every little thing she sees. His sponsor for example.

And if you haven’t a mean girl yet—

Wooh-wee…

How’s he supposed to think with all this crocodile growling going on? “Wendinopolis,” he sassed, “hush your chops. We’re looking for hide-and-bro-seek!” She still growled none the less, maybe louder this time.

We hear things in Wendy’s perspective, a low whisper of a guy saying, “He’s beautiful, he’s perfect!” over and over again. Wendy couldn’t track where it’s from, but s/he knew that it wasn’t from her fluffy kidnappers.

He walked down the hall wishing he had a cell phone as a sense of security. I mean this place has no wi-fy, but at least he could die playing candy rush. That game is addictive… or maybe a mirror so when he died he could look at his beautiful face one more time before the final hour.

_I have to stop thinking like this_. For Spencer at least. He could be lost and alone, regretting this dumb horror adventure and expecting his beautiful, selfless, mega normal big bro/cousin to come and save him and here Baruch is thinking of what to do before they die. He has to keep hoping and believing. There’s always a way out of things. The horror movie characters where too dumb to find it, that’s all. In fact, there IS a way out! He just has to find Spencer and get the front door out of this joint. Easy peasy with a squeezed lemon on top!

Walking down the hallway lost in a jungle of his thoughts leads Wendy and him into a lab. It wasn’t very modern, not that Baruch’s been to a modern lab, but it looked like the mad scientist labs you do find in horror movies except with wood instead of plastic or marble. On three tables where test tubes and liquids, bubbling, settled, or frozen. Baruch walked passed them and each one disoriented his face in shape. One made him skinnier, fatter, wider, shorter, and one with pink fluid in it that made him look like a llama, making no sort of reference to any movie anyone’s ever heard of.

Once passed the tables he came to three doors on one wall. “Marco!” He called.

“Come on, Baruch!” he heard on the other side. But of which door? He could go inside any of them, get it wrong, and get 10% more lost. That’s something everyone needs, the death of the best soul on the earth’s universe. He opened the first door. A spine tingling breeze flew through it as he opened it ajar. He whispered the name, “Spencer…” loud enough to echo, quiet enough to be deadly. Again with this _acoustics_! He is going to rent this place _dry_ when he gets home and have the _best_ concerts on Halloween.

A low rumble can be heard in the distance. What was that? Baruch looked in more attentively, sticking his head in deeper through the door. “Hello?” All he saw was the gigantic jaws and blood red eyes of something coming towards the door before he shut it. The next thing he knew, he was on the floor panting while sweat ran down his face. What was _that_? Whatever it was, it was slamming on the door now, with its body, or with his hands, Baruch didn’t know. But Baruch knew it had the potential to break the door. Any time now it will, and Baruch didn’t want to be here when it does. He quickly stood up, the _bams_ on the doors ringing in his ears like a heartbeat. He heard growls behind that door. He grabbed the handle of the second one—

Immediately after, he was tackled by a man. He phased through the door, like he was air and tackled Baruch to the ground. The man was thick and had all the requirements of a full-fledged nerd guy. He was green, a pale green, and, Baruch could swear on it, the guy was see-through. He was holding Baruch down by his shoulders and giving him a psychotic smile on his face. “I love you,” he kept saying to him, “I love you and I want to be you, forever, give yourself to me!” Baruch instinctively grabbed for the guy’s hands to get him off, but he soon noticed that every time he tried, his fist completely closed as it cut through the man’s flesh.

“Give yourself to me!” The man was choking him now, clogging up his wind pipe. As Baruch was drifting deeper into a coma, he saw his exterior forming into the face and body of the man, like a chubby version of himself with big glasses and braces. “Give yourself to me!” Baruch kicked and wretched trying to break free. What’s happening? Why is it happening?

While the reason he should go on is usually his fans, a new song he needs to produce, the fact that he’s simply too fabulous and beautiful, or he would never get that next jar of peanut butter ever again, Spencer crossed his mind for only a brief moment after that mental list. When it did, he was determined to get this freakazoid off him yesterday.

His arms stretched all around him, needing to reach something. Anything. He could feel his face swelling. The world around him was fading. He felt groggy, limbless, tired…

The man’s head flopped back suddenly. He yelped, and let’s go of Baruch. He wasted no time getting himself up and out through the third door. He ran his tail off, through the darkness and unknown he ran. He made the mistake of looking back and saw the guy chasing him with that same smile and with Wendy tugging on his hair with her teeth. Was he… _flying_ towards him?!

He’s seen flying people before but how many supers _are_ there in life?

“I love you Billy Joe Cobra!” screamed his chubby replica.

He can’t believe he’s thinking this, but Baruch doesn’t want his love.

This made him run faster.

He reached a straight dead end and made a left turn instead of a right, not taking a thought of which was he should turn. He hopped over a table that was in the way and ahead he saw more clutter blocking the way. He made a right turn. Up ahead there was a metal door on a metal wall. The door was shut and had a padlock on it. He bruised his shoulder when he uselessly slammed against it. He banged and screamed for mama. This can’t be happening.

“BJC?”

Baruch looked over his shoulder with diluted pupils.

“Where are you?” The green glow of the man faded and illuminated on the corners of the intersection. “I just want to be friends.”

Billy turned his attention to the padlock. There’s got to be some sort of code. _If I was a psycho that had mutant monsters living in my house, what number would I use?_ He pressed 666.

**Denied.**

“I’ve listened to all your songs. I know them by heart forwards and backwards. Plus I do a little flute. I’d be a great replacement!”

He tried 252.

**Denied.**

_What?! I’m_ everyone’s _password!_

“I can hear you breathing, Billy…”

He had his back against the door now. He just had to hope the man doesn’t find him in the corner. He held his breath, and closed his eyes. To his right he heard three quick beeps and a _ding_ just as the Billy replica rounded the corner, looked to the side, and stared at Baruch. “There you are!”

Baruch felt his body tense at the sound of that sentence.

The man was singing _Big Yachts and Money_ out of tune as he flies at the speed of light. Baruch fell backward suddenly and a door slammed in front of him. He let his eyes open.

He went through the door.

“Billy!” said the guy on the other side. “I can’t phase through metal walls, buddy! Can you open the door?”

Billy felt himself chuckle. He also felt light headed again.

* * *

 

“They move on when they remember who killed them and either forgive or seek vengeance!”

“VENGENCE!”

“No, Spenny, forgiveness cuts deep and heals fast.”

_Who are these voices?_ Baruch’s head was throbbing. _Is one of them Spencer?_

“Tell me another! Tell me another!”

“Alright, hold your horses. Now these are told to have had low self-confidence during their live times and didn’t like their person the day they died. They don’t remember who they are in the afterlife, and having a deep need to, they find themselves in others by copying their personalities and killing off the body after they copied them, like with Fred going after your older brother. They move on when they remember who they really are and accept it. These glow a pale green.”

“How nice are those?”

“They can’t be trusted. **Ever**. No matter how nice they are, they will suck your persona juices dry! Got it?”

“Yup.”

_Who’s that woman with him?_

“Now these had a strong passion for something they’ve always wanted to do back when they were alive and never got to do it because of something. They follow that passion in the afterlife, but they don’t remember what. Depending on what it was, they do different things. These glow a nice **** color.”

“Like you!”

“Yes, like me! They move on when they remember what they wanted to do and feel they accomplished it.”

“What were you passionate about, Teresa? Do you remember?”

Baruch heard Teresa laugh. “I don’t know! I like a lot of things! I like pies, and flowers, and children like yourself. It could anything.”

“Are they nice?”

“They who?”

“The ghost.”

_Ghost?_

“You tell me.”

“You’re a humble busy bee cup of honey to me, Tete.”

“Aw, right back at you sweetie. But you have to be careful. For all you know, their passion was to lock someone up in a box and bury him.”

“Oh no!”

“Oh yeah oh no.”

“Is that all?”

“There’s…one more! These types feel that they should be treated as if they were alive and are very dominant about their spaces and passions, only wanting change on their accord and breaks it all instead when they don’t get their way. Boy do they have a temper!”

“What were they like before?”

“They have unfinished business, so they want to do it as if they were alive. They don’t remember what it is though. They’ll move on when they remember and succeed in finishing it. These glow blue.”

“Are they nice?”

“When they want to be. They don’t mind people very much when it has nothing to do with their space. And even then they don't pay you much attention. You’d had to be a very special person back in its live days for them to care about you.”

Baruch grunted and struggled to open his eyes. They felt like two ton bricks. His waist was squished in a hold and a hand stroked his black spikes for hair. Baruch slapped all those away mumbling, “Don’t touch me; I’m famous.” He rubbed his eyes.

“Oh,” Spencer exclaimed, “did I tell you big bro’s a famous cereal mascot!”

“Is he? What’s it called?”

“Billy Joe Cobra cereal!”

“Oooh. Yummy!”

“For the nth time, I’m not a mascot.” Baruch grumbled. He doesn’t know how many times he has to say it to this boy! He pushed himself up and finished his proud introduction while slowly opening his eyes. “I’m a world famous pop star! Billy Joe…” His eyes widened. “…Cobra…”

Ghost as far as the eye can see of all colors of the rainbow filled the room and stared at Baruch who was on a very uncomfortable bed and covers made out of wool. All of them could fly. One of them, a nice looking lady with fluffy hair who glowed a soft **** was holding the smiling Spencer on her hips.

“Baruch,” he exclaimed, “I found ghost!”

He looked at Spencer, rolled his eyes back, and went back to sleep.

* * *

* * *

 

It’s been a week after that conversation.

Spencer couldn’t remember a single thing he was taught all day. All he could think about was Billy and, for some reason, all the girls he could think of.

_Shanilla._

He was riding his bike home while his head was lost in a maze. He doesn’t like avoiding Billy like this. He knows he shouldn’t for so long.

_Lolo._

They need to talk. But Spencer couldn’t bring himself to explain his feelings to Billy. He doesn’t know why.

_Mallory._

Is Billy in the house? Is he following him right now? Spencer didn’t like not knowing where he is. Especially since, for all Spencer knows, Billy could be following him right now watching his every move, and he’ll have no idea.

That’s just creepy.

_Sam._

_Jazz._

_Paulina…_

He saw Hoover’s van parked outside the mansion. He was wearing a maid’s outfit and a white pigtail wig and a smile. _Not today. Any other day but today, please._ He confronted him just as he got out the car. Hoover fixed his skirt and blouse, and held up the duster in his hand, making sure to show off some leg. “Why hello, dearie,” he said in a fake womanly British accent. “My name is Ra—”

“Can it Hoover, I’m not in the mood today.” He dragged his feet and his bike as he moved passed him. “Nor was I yesterday or the days prior.”

“H-Hoover?” he giggled. “Who’s Hoover? My name is Ra—”

“I don’t. **_Care_**.” He was facing Hoover now, his bike lying on the side of the gate. “Listen, Hoover, guy, I’m going to say a few sentences. I need you to pay very close attention to them.” He spoke slowly to him, like Hoover was 5. “I am not in the mood for a Billy hunt. I want to—am I going to fast?” Hoover shook his head. “Okay. I want to go to sleep. Come back tomorrow. Did you get that?”

Hoover nods with an innocent smile. “Yes I did, dearie. I just wish I knew who this Hoover is—“

“ _Please_! I’m begging you! You can turn the house inside-out first thing tomorrow all you want! I just want to be _alone_ today!” He paused for a sigh. “Look, I know you’re trying to do your job, but just…can’t she wait till tomorrow?”

Finally, Hoover dropped the act. “Kid,” he said in his normal voice and stance, “I honestly don’t care about the guy. JTT is a _much_ better artist than anything pretty boy sang—”

Billy’s _Someone's _—_ Disrespecting_ _—My—Skills_ instincts kicked in. He needed to beat someone up for some reason. He grabbed a nearby bat in the garage heading out for the first time in over 7 days. He’s been practicing to cry on que in there for the past week. A lot of ectoplasm got everywhere, but it won’t do any harm. At least he thinks so.

“—But she pays well, if you get me.” Spencer sighed. He’ll never get some rest. “But tell you what, I’ll pull off till tomorrow and let you get some rest. You really do look beat. I broke a foot or whatever.” Hoover hopped back in his van, fixing his wedgie while mumbling something about women living in this outfit. “I’ll go home and try to get out of this garter belt.”

He walked away from the moving car that Billy was following and slugged to his house, more likely than not empty. For some reason, since Spencer’s depression episode, everyone in the family only comes back at night. In the morning and afternoons, the house was empty. He hates to admit it, but he misses all the liveliness and the company. He misses the conversations and the exchange of care. He misses his family. Every member, alive or deceased.

He found himself with his head in his pillow and his homework on his working bench being lifeless. He wasn’t in the mood for homework. He wasn’t in the mood for anything. He just wants to sleep forever.

* * *

The hardware tools formed together to make a giant humanoid tool man in the garage. So far he's wrecked the garage and the front lawn, and it appears that, when he comes in contact with another hardware tool, as shown with Hugh's hand made grill, it attaches to him like a magnet, and he becomes bigger. His quest so far and to seek and destroy things for no reason. Or does he have one, and is repressing his thoughts and feelings in reality? Find out next time on.... _Dude That's My Ghost: Lil Bro_.

 


	8. Mornings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baruch wakes up a little earlier than usual in his house

Baruch yawned.

He woke up earlier than the usual: 7 in the morning. He must have had a choice party last night. He could feel it in his headache and drowsy throat. “Someone get me some water,” he croaked, stretching his hand out. Sure enough, he was holding a glass in his palm and taking it all in in one sip. He dropped the glass on the floor knowing someone was going to catch it. With his eyes refusing to open, he rolled out of bed lazily. The covers draped his legs and torso like a caterpillar when his face hits the floor. Everything in his body was _on fire_! He wished he could’ve remembered what the heck he did last night to make him feel this intensely cruddy. He jerked his leg to see if any 12 to 16 year old girl(s) was/were on his bed, but all he felt was more sheet. It wasn’t that.

He pushed himself up with his scrawny arms and crawled. The carpet burned his chin and palms as he dragged his body on the floor. That water helped, but the horrible and metallic taste in his mouth was driving him crazy. He needed a quick mouth and face wash. Even more so a shower. Eventually, his arms failed him and flopped to the floor like a wet noodle. He groaned at his servants whiningly, stridently. Speaking require too much effort. His arm was grabbed by soft and gentle hands that can couldn’t harm a flower they crushed it, and his body was lifted off the ground in a giffy. His legs, still feeling like chilly flavored Jell-O, was up and over one painful step at a time.

After some walking around, his hand flung to feel for any wall or door, and felt the knob. He knew it was for the bathroom. He’s been in this situation many times, and it’s only natural he knows his house’s map with his eyes closed. After twisting it, he entered through the door, and felt for his toothbrush. It had a different feel than normal, but it was probably that time of the month that they change it. He felt for the toothpaste, applied, on brush, wets the bristles in the sink, and scrubs his teeth, side to side because he wants to.

His thigh was slapped. Repetitively. He also heard a little whimper too familiar. “Big bro,” it said drowsily.

_Isn’t that Danny Fenton…? …No wait, it’s Spen…Sp…that guy. What’s he doing here? Aw well, he aien’t hurting no one._

With his tooth brush still in his mouth, he bends over to pick up the little guy. Spencer’s legs wrapped around Baruch’s waist and grabbed hold on his neck, going back to sleep. Baruch continued to brush his teeth while he held him.

He rinsed his mouth of toothpaste suds with cold water before he heads out. He held Spencer and rubbed his back while he slept in his arms. He’ll wonder why Spencer’s here later; he’s too tired to think about things. Besides, in this densely cold atmosphere, Spencer’s small body heat was well appreciated. “Turn up the heat!” He could feel Spencer vibrating in his embrace. “You cold, brotien?”

Spencer moaned and held him tighter.

“Bro?”

He moaned a yes. “Mmhm.”

“I got you, bro.” One hand rubbed Spencer’s back and the other snapped in the air. “Blankets!”

A blanket was on Spencer ten seconds before he asked. Spencer was absorbed in the warm cuddle of the covers that surround his body and sighed.

“You know,” a lady said. It had a rich accent from Ireland. “I’m more than happy to help a friend of a friend up and out. Spencer’s told me a lot about you, and you sound like a nice boy. But a thank you here and there wouldn’t hurt, would it?”

Baruch lifts and eyebrow without missing a step. “And _who_ do you think _you_ are?”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you know who you’re dealing with, _miss_?” he said this with a bombed tone of voice like he was intoxicated in sleep dust. “I can you outta here like _that_.” He snapped his fingers when he said ‘that’.

“What in Thor’s name are you blabbering about?”

“I’m a world…” He paused to think about where he was going with this. _Oh yea_. “I am a _world_ famous pop star, and will be treated with respect in _my house_!” He tipped over slightly, but caught himself with two steps.

By that time, Spencer was taken away from him and the warmth was gone. “Boy can’t even stand. Goanna trip and fall with you holding Spenny!” Her voice faded away with some talk about cereal mascots thinking they own the world.

She’s going to get a letter and a ticket to the employment line when the mood comes!

He felt a pat on the back. “Don’t mind her,” said a French voice. “She never had a child before she was hit by a truck.”

“Get your hands off me!” He growled giving a tipsy slap. “Get back to me on that when I care! She will not act toward me like I’m some random junkie on the street, mmkay? Cuz I’m not! I am the most important thing has ever happened to her **_I_** am Billy Joe of the Cobras—!” His body gave up on him.


	9. Who's Been Bullying My Son?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the family does when they're not home.

It was dark, humid, and suspicious. He had no idea where he was, or why he was. He just knew he was humiliated, and battered, grateful he couldn't see how awful his condition must be, blindfolded and all. Everything in and out his body was on fire, like it was being repeatedly poked with pins, especially on the ears. He went through everything they could throw at him, whoever _they_ were.  What worse could they do?

“So, Buddy is it?” said a voice he was too familiar with. He knew it as the Top Dog’s voice, the one in charge of this shindig. “You’re one tough cookie. You’ve been tickled for 25 minutes on the toes, given one hundred and eighty pinches on the shoulder, withstood 3 hours of chalkboard scratches and more, lots more. We still couldn’t break you. You’re a lot tougher than that other guy with the face, but that doesn’t mean you’re impossible to spill. So I’m going to ask just one more time.” He paused for effect. “Who’s been bullying my son?”

“Look, I—I’d tell ya,” he stuttered, “but the thing is—”

“Yeah, yeah, you don’t know who he is in the first place. Haven’t heard _that_ line before.” Said another voice. Buddy recognized it as the second hand woman. It was tough and harsh, like rocks in the desert, with a hint of Italian in it. “You still think this is a game, don’t ya, yeah? I’ll admit, I like your moxie,” footsteps echoed off the walls, “it’s a shame we’re going to have to take it from ya.”

“You want to know what happened to the last guy that thought this was a game?”

“Wha—what?” He dared to ask, knowing his faith will end the same way, whatever it will be.

The evil voice chuckled. He could hear it two inches away from his ear. “Let’s just say we left 'em sniffling for a few weeks,” she said as a tickle came to his nose suddenly. "Permission to feather, pap?"

"Permission granted, my little kungfu master... make it purple..."


	10. Texting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy sends a text to Spencer

Spencer’s phone buzzed in his pocket. It vibrated on his side and hummed a catchy tune. This caught him right in the middle of a frustrating cat nap that made him feel groggy when he woke up. He realized it wasn't a cat nap after all as he saw how dark it got, but a bear's hibernation. Spencer slide off his pants, making Billy feel slightly guilty. He thought it would be Shanilla again trying to call him and ask him for the nth time if he’s alright. That was the original thought anyway. When he realized the buzzing lasted for 2 seconds, Spencer found out it was a text. Again, he assumed it was Shanilla as he rummaged the device out of his pants pocket, looking at his phone, and tossing hi pants besides his bed. The florescent glow of the screen brightened Spencer’s face in the dark, and Billy could say it made him look kind of nice. He watched Spencer push buttons here and there to check for the person who texted as Spencer wormed his way under his covers.

The text was from Billy. Spencer’s eyes widened as he saw. He didn’t know why he was so surprised though. They made up. Whatever was wrong with Billy was cleared and taken care of. They’re back to being bros again. It’s only a normal thing to text each other, right? Spencer covered his heated face with his blanket while staring at the screen. _r u doing ur hw?_

Spencer sighed, giving his text books that are collecting cobwebs a quick glance. He clicked buttons here on there on his keypad, then sends it. _Yea._

It dawned Spencer that somewhere, for some reason, there’s a spider in his room.

He got another text in a millisecond. The phone shook in his hand.

_No ur not. I can c u snoozing._

Spencer read over Billy’s succinct message and eyed the room fearfully. _if u knew, y'd u ask?_

_2 check of u's lie_

_Stop watching me while I can’t see you. It creeps me out._

_I can’t help it._

He’s right. All Billy is doing is being in places. It’s Spencer’s fault why he can’t see him; it’s Spencer’s choice. _Sry._

_I get ya. Chicks used to stalk the Cobra back in the live days and I’d get so paranoid in my sleep, I swore the boogie woman was in my closet._

Spencer noticed something different in the way Billy talked. He started saying things like “back when I was alive,” “before I died,” and “since I’m dead” instead of “back in the old days,” “before I was ghostified,” and “what are you talking about?” Spencer didn’t know what that meant, but he knew it was off from Billy’s character. Those phrases, though similar, had different meanings and undertones. It concerned Spencer a little, but only just a little. _Lol_.

_Go do ur hw. PP will get on u if u don’t_

What type of reason is that? _He’ll get on me either way._  
 _He’s a jerk_  
 _That’s what he does_

_I don’t want u 2 fail_

_It just one assignment. I’ll make up for it later_

_U’ll learn things_

_I’ll forget it later anyway._   
_Let’s be honest, when am I going to apply most of the things I’ve learned in school to real life?_   
_When’s the last time the protagonist used the Pythagorean Theorem to kill a zombie?_   
_Never. That’s when_

_Spence >:(_

Spencer growled at the phone. He never cared about Spencer's homework before, if anything promoted him to hold it off till the last minute. Now he wants to make a disappearing act and be all in his face about it right when he just wants to sleep?   _I’m not in the mood to do my homework, Billy, what do you want?_

The vibration of the phone was stronger than usual, and got stronger every time Billy texted him. _4 u to stop being dumb and letting yourself hit rock bottom over nothing!_

 _If you’re worried about it so much, why don’t YOU do it?!  
_ _You’re so smart and know everything!_

 _Fine! I will!_ The phone nearly shook out of Spencer’s hands. _And you’re going to get the fattest A the world has ever known!_

Spencer’s text book flipped open as he could see from afar. He hoped the spider wasn’t anywhere. He’d hate for Billy to get scared. _What do I care?_ Spencer rolled on his side and glared at his collection of very creepy knickknacks that were on his shelf like he wants them to explode.

Billy had no idea what he was doing or what the assignment was, but he was going to get Spencer to pass anyway! He’s Billy Joe Cobra! Whatever he does is _always_ the right way to do it! So the page numbers 245 and 246 are circled, there are dash marks on questions 12 through 56, and most of these questions have something to do with radii, circumferences, and arcs. It is _more_ than obvious they want a 12 paged book report on _Catcher and the Rye_. Billy can do that. It was some book about a baseball player and his love for rye bread. Billy really enjoyed that book, not that he read it. He got right to work.

 

* * *

 

Spencer was about to sink deeply in sleep when his phone buzzed again. It was from Billy.

_Is it alright if you can say hi to me?_

Spencer shrugged. _Hi Billy :/._

_No. Outloud._

_Why?_

_I want to hear your voice._

Spencer’s first impression of that message was 'something a creepy stalker would say'. _Why do you want to hear my voice?_

_IDK I just do_

_R u sure that’s it?_

There was a long gap between the latter reply and the next one. Spencer could hear the pages flipping behind him and the soft sound of the crickets outside his window as he waits for Billy. He stared at his phone, waiting for a reply. He stared and he stared, his eyes burning from the luminous glow that is his screen. The pages stopped turning. Everything was still and silent. It was silent enough to kill a man or drive him mad. Spencer remembered the first day he had to deal with this type of silence. He almost wanted to scream. Finally, Billy gained some ghost guts to tap his personal thoughts on his phone. These feelings were cheesy, and was a line to say to an ex-girlfriend to win her over, but today, it was the truth. Spencer stared at the message and his heart either stopped or speed up. He doesn’t know. His body felt numb.

_I missed you all week_

Spencer’s dilated eyes looked somewhere pass the screen, the room, and reality. His brain went to some place impractical and unheard of, some place Spencer tried his hardest to never go to or touch. He was too scared of that place. He knew going there would risk ruining the best friendship he had in a very long time. He knew going there would make the slightest shared glance from a bro the most awkward gesture of the whole day. He knew going there would make him have to admit to something he doesn’t want to. _Shanilla._ _Mallory._ _Lolo._ He strayed away from it some more, knowing that was all just a high school dream. It meant what it meant and nothing more.

_Y say something like that?_

_Because it’s true_   
_if you don’t want to see me that’s fine. I understand_   
_but can I hear you at least? Just once_   
_then I’ll never bother you again_

Spencer spun his body about face while sitting up so he could see the apparent empty space that is his desk and text books where Billy should be. He screamed, “But I don’t _want_ you to stop bothering me, Billy!” he controlled his volume being that, to the human eye, he’s shouting at nothing like a madman. “Don’t you think I missed you too?” His phone buzzed.

_Then why are you avoiding me?_

“I don’t know! I’m conf…” that word with a misleading connotation was avoided by Spencer. “…muddled right now.”

_Muddled like how?_

“ _Muddled like muddled_!” Spencer tried to find the right words for his thoughts. He wasn’t very good at it. He’ll say what’s on his mind, don’t get him wrong, but things like…personal feelings were off his comfort zone. “Billy, I’m sorry." He tried to stick to "I" pronouns when he spoke. "I hurt you by avoiding you, I see. I didn’t mean to. Well, hurt you I mean. N-not that I meant to avoid you ether, I-I mean I did do it purpose, not that I wanted to-" He stopped, and actually thought of his next words. "It’s just all that has happened is sort of _shocking_ and random and I don’t know how to confront it. I mean, my best bro is my **fiancé,** and I 'member jack squat about any of it. What am I supposed to do about that?”

_IDK_

“Me neither.” Spencer wondered if he should continue on with what’s on his mind. It’s a big risk to make, but will it be worth it in the end? His phone buzzed, interrupting his self-debate.

_Are you mad at me?_

This again. Spencer's still trying to understand why he feels this way anyway. "You asked me this before." He knows it's because of the promise, but it's cleared and put the window by now. “Why you still on about that?”

 _I made a promise to you and left you and alone and forgot you existed for the past 6 years.  
It's still bugging me  
I mean, even if U don't remember, if u just listen to how it sounds, I was a complete tool 2 u  
I_ _’m scared that you hate me and my dead guts._  
Do you? 

“I don’t.”

_Be honest with me.  
I’ll understand._

“I’m not mad at you; I can never be mad at you or hate you this much." Spencer didn't think of these words before he said them. It was a collection of sentences he's been dying to say all week. "I’m not going to ruin our friendship over a half a decade old promise I don’t even remember, Baruch." He was reluctant to say the next sentence though, but he said it. "I love you.”

Spencer’s back hits his bed before he could notice it. A yelp escapes his mouth and he grabs for nothing on his body. He knew it was Billy. He recognizes the feel of a hug from him all too well. The way his noodle arms wrapped around him twice over, how his cheek always touches Spencer’s, and the way Spencer’s head felt like it was going to pop off was a tale tell sign this was Billy hugging Spencer. Billy cried, “I love you too, little bro!” while waterfalls of tears splashed out his eyes in an unrealistically powerful stream.

“Billy, do you have something of yours I could use to see you?” Spencer asked while he accidentally hugged his own torso. “I want to hug you back.” He could feel his voice cracking.

Having butterflies in his heart from that quote, Billy pulled out something from his pocket that’s been his most prized possession ever since his memories returned to him. A red ring layered with melted ruby and inscribed the letters BJC on them. He glides it on Spencer’s finger, and waits for the magic to happen. He watched as Spencer’s eyes didn’t look up at the ceiling but at the face of his smiling best friend. Spencer couldn’t help but let that smile infect him too and sniffled.

"What I'd tell you about rule number three, bro?" Billy's own eyes were watering.

"I don't know what that is." Spencer stretched out his arms with a big grin. "But just shut up and hug me brotha~a!"


	11. Spencer's First Horror Adventure Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The adventure continues and Billy is a very bored guy

 

 

 

“Spencer,” a motherly voice whispered while his shoulder shook. “Wake up honey.”

Spencer blinked himself awake, but couldn’t get his eyes to fully open. On a regular day, since he sleeps so early, he would be up and about before his mother gets here. He hardly slept last night because he was listening to his cousin play his guitar until the night end. He sounded so beautiful. Spencer could hardly sleep through such stunning demonic tones. Spencer yawned and shivered in the cold morning air, but his eyes wouldn’t open.

“Aren’t you a sleepy head today,” his mother hummed while picking him up herself on her hip. “What did you guys _do_ last night?”

He rests his head on his mother’s shoulder while trying to catch a few more seconds of Z’s.

She chuckled. “I’ll ask later.”

By the time Spencer took his bath and ate breakfast, he more alert than he was before. Although, it was still a struggle to concentrate on household chores like buttering the milk or navigating the goats to their den. He’s get half way through it then drift off into Lalaland for a few moments before a goat was chewing his overalls. He didn’t do a very good job on his chores today, but neither his mother nor aunt seem to mind. They were more than happy to fix the little things in place of Spencer.

His mother was actually kind of happy Spencer spent the night coming out of his shell and smiling for the first time in months. Spencer is always up in his room playing by himself, talking to himself, or just being quiet and doing nothing. He didn’t have a lot of friends because he was…different. The whole Wright family is different in their own way, but Spencer was a more special case that people couldn’t understand. It would sadden her to watch her boy rot in the pessimism of his own thoughts. He wouldn’t talk to anyone in the house, except his father, but even then he would only speak but so much. Even though their first encounter was a little shaky, the fact that Billy got Spencer to interact simply with his presence was something incredible. They’re giggling and constant chatter upstairs was like music to her ears. Plus, if Billy likes him enough, he might get the whole family to get on exquisite trips and spas! It was a really great feeling to know Spencer made a (famous) friend.

And Baruch’s mother was quite pleased with this too. Her son’s always seeming so stuck up and self-absorbed like he’s the best thing since sliced chocolate chipped bread when he’s actually a really nice boy deep down. Baruch is a special kid to her, don’t get her wrong. Not a lot of professional musicians _twice_ Baruch’s age can say they’ve made ONE hit in a year no less a dozen. Although, it’s a sad and lonely life to think that’s it’s you before the world, and Baruch was raised to believe that for such a long time that she doesn’t know who she’s looking at anymore sometimes. When Spencer came in the picture, in a matter of minutes, he was able to bring out that nice, fun boy in Baruch she was attempting to let out for years. She is forever grateful.

Baruch’s mother called Spencer over while she was milking some cows in a bucket. He sat on a stool she offered him and they began to speak for a while about her son.

“So, how do you feel about Baruch? Is he, uh, ok?”

Spencer cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. He blinked.

“What? Is he, uh…Do you think he’s nice?”

“Who is Borough?”

It then clicked that Baruch must have asked him to call him Hauchy instead of Baruch. She doesn’t understand why he can’t just tell people his name. What’s wrong with it? Then again, she likes to use his original name herself to remind her of the boy she knew before Billy Joe Cobra was born. “You know, Hauchy. Baruch is his name, really, Baruch Cohen.”

Spencer’s eyes widened.

“Yeah. So how is he?”

Spencer nods.

“He’s good? Good. Glad you like him.” That’s the first time she said that in a juncture. She would usually get a full 2 paged essay about how awful of a child Baruch is when Baruch’s not looking. “Is he treating you well any…bad…phrases so to speak?”

“What’s a fases?”

She held back an _aww_. “Did he say anything mean to you?”

Spencer shook his head.

“Good.” She felt shocked on the inside and proudness over run that emotion. “That’s nice. You two friends?”

Spencer nods. “He said that he’ll be my friend,” Spencer twiddled his thumbs and smirked shyly, “and that I'm going to be a die rect tore because I want to be and not a cereal killer.”

Her internal _aww_ ’s mixed with winces were becoming harder to conceal. "Really?"

"Uh huh. I'm going to make big hor or films when I grow up like he said!"

“Horror, eh?” She remembers her son hating that genre to death and will, quote ‘do whatever it is in my unlimited power to sue every man that has ever produced a film on that topic when the mood comes!’ “Why Horror?”

“B-Ba-Baru-uhm.”

“Beh-Rrrough.” She rolled her tongue at the R.

“Bah-Rof.”

“Beeeeehhh.”

“Beeeeeh.”

“Rrrrrr.”

At a horrendous attempt at rolling his tongue, it bounced off the bridge of his mouth in slow patterns. “La-da-de-de.”

“Rough.”

“Row.”

“Beh-rrrough.”

“Baruch.”

She windswept his hair to congratulate. “Smart kid.”

Spencer smile shyly and averted his eyes from her. “Baruch said that was my favorite jean ray …”

“Genre? So you like horror?”

He nods and shrugs.

“Explains that _evil_ ladybug costume. You looked _menacing_.”

He flushed in the cheeks. “What-what does Hauchy like to eat?”

Random question. She doesn’t know how they can transition from costumes to favorite foods, but live life while you’re young. “Well, _Baruch_ , if you must know, is all over the place with peanut butter. But the creamy kind. Get him the ones with nuts and he’ll scream for 2 years about it.” That was a hyperbole, but in its own way a true statement. “He actually likes crunchy peanut butter with the peanuts removed, but we get creamy and replace the label. _Don’t tell him though_.”

He nods. “Why peanut butter?”

She shrugged. “He just likes it. _A lot_.”

And from there they talked about favorite drinks, favorite color, where does he live, his favorite band, and whole lot more. Baruch’s mom didn’t know how to answer some of those questions because she only knew so much about her son, but she answered to the best of her ability, and on the side, told a few funny and embarrassing stories about her son.

“And he was all ‘hey, it’s breezy today aien’t it?’ and he looked down and his skirt was all the way up and he covered himself like a girl from a magaz…” her voice faded away in her and Spencer’s laugher. The giggling was interrupted but the call of his mother. “Looks like that’s your call to go.”

Before he left though, he scrambled enough time to give his great auntie a big hug on the leg. “Bye, Auntie.”

“Bye, Sweetie,” she said scratching his hair with a smile.

On his way out the door, his mother was just getting some cookies out the oven, peanut butter cookies to be exact. The filled the room with its buttery aroma. “Done,” squeaked Jane. “Now that that’s ready for my cousin—” giggles “—I’ll go on ahead and take a nice tinkle in the can.” She skied on up the stairs while Spencer looked over the counter. Maybe if he takes a cookie or two for Baruch, he might like him more. A smile grew on his face when his imagination took him to a happy place.

“Is that for me?” He would say as Spencer presented him a cookie on a silver platter. “Oh, Spencer, you’re the best bro I could ever have.” And he would hug him and give him kisses on the cheek. “We’ll be together forever, and I’ll never call you Danny Fenton again, whoever the heck that is!” By the end of that thought, half of 200% of the tray was gone and into Spencer’s kangaroo pocket. We will not question how all those cookies could fit in there. Just in time too, for his mother came back whistling. Spencer quickly hid behind the counter when she saw her.

Jane took notice of the empty tray of cookies and lifts her eyebrow. “Hmm. All gone. Must’ve been those gosh darn vultures. Always after my desserts!” Oh well. She’ll just make some more later. Spencer has to get to school.

 

* * *

* * *

 

Spencer’s school was a small little house looking hut in the middle of nowhere. It had three classrooms that had its own personal door to it. Room 1, room 2, and room 3. Spencer was room 2. In the back of the building, there was a nice playground that was generally in pretty good condition. Had a slide or two, some swings, a sandbox, can’t complain. Spencer stood in front of room 2, heart pounding under his chest.

“Are you ready, sweetie?” His mother knew that he wasn’t very sociable with the kids, but she had no idea of what he goes through every time she leaves.

He shook his head.

“Oh don’t be silly.” She opened the door for him and shoved him inside. “See you later, champ!”

The door slammed behind him like the inopportune chance to enter something hectic and horrible from down below.

His class wasn’t a small one, but it wasn’t all that and a bag of chips. Gets the job done, at least. You have your basic desk and chairs, chalk board, and a teacher’s desk with an apple on it.

That apple never goes rotten.

It is an edible apple that never goes rotten.

We will not focus on this apple for it is irrelevant.

The teacher should turn this apple into the authorities.

The classroom had a number of students, with 3 students to focus on. There was this one girl with a name and she was quite a noun preposition verb. Her adjective and adjective noun past participle in the adverb way. Her adjective noun matched her adjective noun and adjective noun. She may have been the adverb adjective girl in Spencer’s class.

Not like this other girl who has a name. She gets on Spencer’s every last nerve along with this boy who has a name too. They do everything within their power to make Spencer’s day horrible and emotionally scarring. The other girl with a name’s intentions of bullying are obvious since Spencer’s a pretty boy gangster, but this boy who has a name too’s are unknown. It may or may not be due to the fact he didn’t pick up a life back at Stoppin’ 4 Shoppin’ for 99¢.

Spencer sat in a seat and tried to concentrate on the teacher’s preschool lesson and not the spit balls thrown at his head and silent taunts from the back of the room. As he listened, he drew little doodles of Baruch in a brides dress while Spencer 99-H swooped in and saved him from the foil zombies from planet Goggin. Then they get married by on a full moon and battle werewolves and vampires together until the crack of dawn when they will retire in an abandon cabin and order the Man eating ladybug around to destroy a city of some sort. It was a great fantasy of how to spend the day with his best friend. Well they’re not best friends _yet_ , but one day. Spencer’s sure of it. One day, they’ll live happily ever after and be best friends forever.

And ever.

And Ever.

**A N D   E V E R…**

“Spencer, what are you doing?” She said snatching his paper away from him. She studied it like it was the answer to all test on the universe. Raising an eyebrow, the teacher lets the class see it too. “I see you have a girlfriend in mind?”

This boy who had a name too points at the picture. “Hey look! Spencer’s got a girlfriend!” The whole classroom laughed.

Then he said the worst series of words to come together in a sentence.

“That’s a boy!”

He said it in defense of his cousin, who was a boy. He said it because it was the truth and it required correcting. What he didn’t realize, being so naive, was how much the world was going to take it. The teacher’s mouth hung open like a fish. The rest of the class was the same. The room was dead silent until this other girl who had a name called, “Spencer has a _boyfriend_! What a weirdo!” Then began the chant of ‘Spencer’s a weirdo’ over and over again. The cheer spread from one person to another like a plague, even to this one girl with a name, who clapped along to the beat. The teacher tried to settle down the classroom, but all efforts were in vain.

When Spencer felt he was on the brink of tears, there was a collapse outside the door followed by heavy breathing. Someone must have passed out outside. Again. The teacher got out the emergency bucket full of water and ordered everyone to play until they all got picked up from class. “And I better not hear any taunts when I get back.”

That was too much to ask for, wasn’t it?

Immediately after the door closed, his shoulder blade toke a sharp poke from one of the students continuing the taunt. Every joined in like a sing along. The more he cried, the louder the taunt seemed to be in his ears. In fact, all he _could_ hear was that awful taunt. It’ll be a song stuck in his head all day.

“This is why no one likes you.”

“That’s why you can’t get any friends.”

“You ultra weirdo!”

Finally, after a few seconds of it, he sprints out of the room in a hurry, the song following him. He opened the door immediately, planning to run away to somewhere far and safe where no one will ever call him weird again, to find something cool on the other side.

His older cousin.

He stared at him between his teacher’s legs in shock. Baruch came to pick him up? Personally?

“Going after your boyfriend, weirdo?” the whole class laughed at the comment.

Having enough tears in his eyes and cheeks to go blind and start waterfalls, he pushed his teacher out the way and went for Baruch and his legs.

 

* * *

 

After they cleared up their ‘feelings’ the other night (a bro moment they’re going to keep strictly between them), things were getting back to normal. Spencer’s parents and sister are still out and about in the night and mornings still, but it’s trusted they have good reasons to do so. (Spencer will get involved if the news crew and\or authorities does). Spencer was eating, sleeping, and living normally. He goes to school and does his work like the good boy he is. This was the first time in a whole week Spencer got out of bed to do _things_ and not laze around all day in bed after school like a dead beat log.

This is also the first time in a while Billy can talk to someone and the conversation doesn’t go towards the angst side. He wasn’t sad or angry or worried or anything, just smiles as usual with his bro. He felt great now that his bro is up and about and not a dead beat log. Now that he can stop worrying about that, he felt he could take on the world. He wanted to do just about everything with someone. Something dangerous, something life threatening, something that makes the blood boil. Doing SOMETHING with ANYONE! And the closest person he could find slightly worthy of being in his presence was his little bro/cousin Spencer.

Alas, that cannot be.

You’d think being absent from school for a day or two would only do you so bad. But no. It did a lot bad. Being absent minded in class for a whole week didn’t help much either. Spencer missed a lot of important material, including the fact The Test was coming up this week. The Test was a very vital test that does things for your future and it’s very important or whatever. It’s a big deal. He wished he would have picked up Shanilla’s phone calls so she could warn him about it, but shoulda-coulda-woulda’s aren’t going to do much now. Now’s the time to study till you’re purple.

Spencer had a lot of catching up to do as one can tell by his ten thousand books.

Billy had other plans for Spencer though, as you can tell from his ten thousand percentile boredom.

He was very bored right now. Bored-er than a surf board in the desert. He had full out list of things to do today with just him and Spencer. He even marked it on his calendar, wherever it is, ‘hang out with Spenpal’. He was pumped and ready and shot down with the news that all his plans had to be postponed for some stupid school related shingling. He didn’t know what else to do with his life that day. He bought all the pants up to season, he played all the video games in the room at least twice, he even dared to watch a show or two on the telly, but there was still enough time to wait for Spencer to finish studying. It sucks to work fast.

Billy glides past Spencer’s working desk with his back hunched his expression blank and his tone dull. “Bored…” He said. Spencer ignored him and kept reading, used to Billy’s immaturity. Billy came back however, his body the shape of a wooden plank. “Board…” he said louder. Spencer continued to read, but at a faster speed and narrowed eyes. Billy returned in a skateboarder outfit and a skateboard in hand and said, “Skate _bored_ …” loudly near Spencer’s ear at the word ‘bored’. Spencer flipped a page aggressively, trying to give Billy a warning. For every board pun Billy came up with, there was a page turn more hostile than the last.

“Snow _bored_.”

Flip…

“Surf **_bored_**.”

 _Flip_.

“All a- _BORED_! _Toot toot!_ ”

**_Flip_. _Flip. Flip. Flip_. _Flip. Flip. Flip_. _Flip. Flip. Flip_. _Flip. Flip. Flip_. _Flip. Flip._**

“I’m a _bored_ chucker all the way. I’m **_bored_** all night and I’m **_BORED_** all day—!”

Spencer snatched the swinging axe in midair and slammed it on his desk with all his upper body strength, making Billy flowing with a half yelp. The blade hit with a _cling_ and left a chip on the corner of the material, but that’s not important. The blue-bearded, woodchuck Billy stared dumbfounded at Spencer, realizing he just caught a wielding axe in midair. He’s not calling Spencer a chicken, just a guy avoidant of sharp objects swinging around in space, so this was a surprise.

Billy really did it now.

Spencer gave the stare of a thousand angry men. “We get it.”

Billy gave the stare of a thousand sad puppies. “Entertain me…”

“Not now, Billy!” He releases his gripped on the handle and put his focus back on the book. “I have a week to cram a year’s worth of studying!”

He ducked under the desk and came back up in his normal clothes. Billy understands that this test is a big deal or whatever, (not totally since he never went to school before and still came out a genius). In all honesty, what Billy really wanted was to hang out with Spencer while he’s out of the funk he had yesterday and get back to the fun things they used to do as soon as possible. Just one day with him and Spencer where they can catch up is the last thing Billy could use right now to feel completely sure that everything was okay. He knew it was, but he needed this one last thing to endorse it. He pestered some more. “Can’t you take a break? I heard a good _fifteen minutes_ off the books gets you smarter or whatever. How about we play games now, or watch a movie, or something?” And then 15 minutes will turn into 30, then to an hour, and so on until the rest of the day is over. He knew how to get Spencer to procrastinate to his liking all too well.

“Huh,” Spencer considered this. He read that somewhere too. “I guess you’re right.” He has been reading nonstop for the past hour, and his brain hurt. A little break would be nice. He looked up from his books and stared dizzyingly at his new game counsel. “Maybe I could play a game or two if it’s for fifteen minutes.”

“Of _course_.” Billy wrapped an arm around him and tugged towards the destination. “ _15 minutes_ on Axe Maniacs III, and you’ll be smarter than Albert Einstein.” And we all know too well Spencer’s not going to put a game down once he starts. Hook and sinker—

Spencer held a finger up. “Wait…” He points at Billy. “I see what you’re trying to do.”

“What?” _Two inches short,_ he thought to himself and winced. He gave his best award winning grin, but he knew Spencer could see right through it. “Trying to have _15 minutes_ worth of fun?”

“No. Every time I take a ‘fifteen minute break’ with you, it’s always fifty times longer than planned. Then I have to spend the next whatever time I have left trying to catch up!”

“That is _not_ true!” And it wasn’t. He only did that once or twice to Spencer, not every single time.

“Oh yeah?”

 

* * *

* * *

 

If he spends the next 2 hours editing his film consistently, he should get through the competition dead line and be done _way_ before 11:59 p.m. It’s a good thing he started filming this in the morning and worked towards the afternoon. “This film’s goanna knock their socks off.”

Billy, literally popping out of nowhere, lifts Spencer by the armpits like he was a baby. As Spencer yelped, Billy said, “Spenderman! There’s this wicked carnival down the street in commemoration of _me_! They have clowns and cotton candy and my songs in a trumpet remix and everything, come on!”

“Wait!” Spencer stopped Billy before he could go any further. Billy had Spencer under his arm like a football, and Spencer hung like a rag doll under Billy’s arm. “I can’t. I got this film to edit, and the deadline’s 11:59 tonight.”

He made a fart noise. “It’s like, _5_. You got _plenty_ of time.” he said waving it off.

He knows that, but he could never feel right with himself if he procrastinated on a project. “But…”

Rolling his eyes, Billy pressed the offer some more. “You’ve been working on that junk all day. Can’t you take a break?” Spencer was still reluctant, responding with his avoidant gaze and not his words. “15 minutes and The Cobra’ll fly you right back.” Spencer gave him a face that still doubt this being a good idea. “ _Promise_.”

“Well…if it’s fifteen minutes—”

“Tots radical!” They flew out the window together.

The room stood still for quite some time as the sun set, the room became dark, and there was not motion whatsoever. The skull clock near Spencer’s bed read 11:54 (it tells time now, don’t worry about it). The second it hit 11:55, Spencer was shoving his elevator door to the side and sprinting across the room onto his chair. It tipped over, but Billy pushed it back up right. His index finger tapped each other’s tips as he saw his friend having a panic attack. He wanted to brighten the situation, and he knew any word that came out his mouth will just make it worse. Billy wasn’t sure how to calm the hyperventilating Spencer down. “Kick Brotoski—?” he tried.

“Oh man!” Spencer groaned rubbing his make-up covered face then pulling his blue dyed hair. “I have, like, _no_ time to edit this!”

“You gots four minutes.” Billy attempted, but then flinched when he saw Spencer’s glare.

Spencer spent three minutes trying to edit whatever he could, and sent in an incomplete file. He didn’t win.

 

* * *

* * *

 

Billy has to admit, he remembered that day. Billy, even though he knew Spencer had his thing, kept promoting to pull it off another couple of minutes for this and that activity. He tried doing his homework for a week to make up for it, but it looks like it wasn’t enough. “Okay, whatever! Sors! But that was like one time—”

“Oh, speaking of ‘onetime’…”

 

* * *

* * *

 

If Spencer can work diligently on this homework assignment for history for the next few hours, he should finish the most of it, and then tomorrow he’ll only have to spend an hour on it and add some finishing touches. It’s a good thing he started this morning and worked to this afternoon. “This history paper’s goanna be the talk of the classroom.”

Billy then popped out of nowhere, again, lifts Spencer up by the ankles, and squeals, “YO! There’s a onetime festival down town and they have a _BJC_ sectionwhere they give out _FREE BROWNIES!_ Come on!”

“Hold on!” Billy had Spencer’s feet on his shoulders so Spencer hung around like a cap. “I have an assignment due in two days. Can it wait?”

“Aw! Come on, Brojangles. This is a onetime festival and you have two days!”

“Well…”

“You’ve been working on that thing nonstop. A break won’t kill ya.” Spencer bit his bottom lip. “15 minutes of your time and you’re back in a flash.” Spencer crossed his arms, considering. “There’s a _Man Eating Ladybug_ section…” Billy sang wiggling his eyebrows.

Nostalgia hit, and his happy little kid came out without a welcome. “Yay!” Spencer regained his older boy wall and tried that again. “I-I mean, that movie was great.” Well, he does have two days. He can just extend the time he has to spend working a little longer tomorrow if they’re there longer than they should have. “I guess I can go if it’s fifteen minutes—”

“Awesome sauce!” They flew out the window. “I’m coming my fellow Cobraheads!”

The room was still for a long while. Days turned into nights and back to days and back to nights. Spencer’s skull clock struck 11:59. Once it struck 12, Spencer’s elevator door slammed open and an angry Spencer hopped in having a sack on him saying ‘Subject 69’ written on it. “What were you doing all day while I was kidnaped?”

Billy floats in wearing a stray jacket and a helmet meant for deep sea diving. He was upset as well. He did his best to try to rescue Spencer _and_ succeeded in it, and this guy has the audacity to down rate the quality of the rescue like there was a better offer. “A bird pooped on me, everyone saw me and thought The Cobra was cosplaying. I _had_ to prove them wrong.”

“What!?” In a new born fit of rage, Spencer turned to face Billy while kicking out of the sack bag. He yelled, “Are you kidding me?”

“Wha?”

“They couldda done heaven knows **_what_** to me and you’re worried about people recognizing you?! I could’ve been part of a human centipede!”

Why is it Billy’s fault? It’s not like he can tell when he’s in trouble or something. He could’ve gone back home and called it a day, but no, he went on a search, and he _still_ isn’t happy. “Sorry my _Spencer Instincts_ weren’t kicking! I saved you, didn’t I?”

The more they argued, the closer their infuriated faces were. “You did jack squat! You picked me up when I busted _myself_ out!” Classical American, coming in last minute and claiming they’re the hero when everything turns out okay.

“You ungrateful twerp!”

“You useless heap of ectoplasm!”

Spencer caught a glance at his computer and his heart stopped for a few seconds. “My assignment! What time is it?” He looked at his screen time and groaned. “I have _no_ time to finish this.”

“Looking at the bad side of the situation as usual!”

Too tired by the time it hit 3 in the morning, Spencer K.Oed by page 2 and Billy did the rest with his history know how. Spencer got an A on his paper, but he didn’t feel good about it.

 

* * *

* * *

 

“You’re welcome by the way! Two times and you’re going to hold it against me?”

“OH! But what about that OTHER time…”

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

Spencer read his book, _How to Kill Mockingbirds,_ in his room on his bed, belly down. It was for his book report due 2 days after next week. If he read two chapters a day for 8 days, he should finish in no time and still have time to actually write his report. “Looks like starting early really _does_ benefit more than the last minute.” Since that usually should take 2 hours a day, there’s still enough room to procrastinate if the situation comes.

Spencer could just feel Billy’s occurrence right at the end of that thought…

“Hey, dude!” Billy occurred phasing in between Spencer and his book, which were close enough as it is. Spencer bends back like a dolphin with wide eyes until Billy did the same thing with a smile.

“ _Billy_! You scared the becheese itz out of me, you drill bit!”

“I know you like it like that,” he winked. “ _Non importantos_.” Spencer hoped so. He didn’t even want to _try_ to understand what that sentence meant. “Don’t you know what day it is? It’s doughnut day! They’re giving out free doughnuts in all the shops in town and there’s a shop that made all the Bear Claws I could think of and then some!” on his knees with his hands held together, he begged, “I need a mortal.”

Spencer smirked.

“And I know what you’re going to say. ‘I’m too busy being a deewb do to something awesome’. But I mean it this time, 15 minutes and we’re back. Even if we don’t get all the doughy nuts, your butt’ll be right here 15 minutes flat.”

Spencer stood up placing the book down gently. “You know what Billy,” He looked at his friend. “Sure. I’ll give you ‘fifteen minutes’. Even if I give you ‘fifteen minutes’ everyday, for the next 9 days, I’ll finish anyway. So I will get you’re bear claws.”

Before he could realize, Spencer was under Billy who was in the shape of a bird with a yellow beak. They float into the sky, Spencer riding Billy. “Sweet!”

“Like a doughnut. Come on.”

They flew out the window together.

Days turned to nights and to days and nights and days and nights and days and nights and days and nights and days and nights and—

Both bros came crashing through the window as the 9th night came upon them. Spencer laid there, burned and battered, trying to make sense out of their day.

“How?”

Billy, headache a bunch times horrible, groaned. “What?”

“How did you do that?

“Do what?”

“How did you single handedly managed to take every ounce of time I had to finish my book report in 15 minutes?!! Every!OUNCE!! YOU DIDN’T _EVEN **TRY**_!!”

Billy shrugged. “I guess it’s those skills.”

Spencer screamed into space.

 

* * *

* * *

 

“Okay, that’s not fair! I _technically_ got you back in 15 minutes. Just not in earth times!”

“What was that?” Spencer cupped his ear towards Billy. “I didn’t get an A on my book report? Oh, for a second there I thought you were defending yourself."

“You _do_ keep a grudge.”

“Billy,” Spencer said seriously, “this test is ultra-mega, importarnado, ok? This is The Test. It’s like the 5th best thing that defines the rest of my life. I _really_ needtostudy. I don’t have time for fun and games.”

He watched as Spencer went back to his books, feeling desperate. “But Spence, What am I supposed to do?”

“You’re a ghost, you have plenty of things to do.”

“But I did them all already. I said that a few thought shots ago.”

“Then go hang out with someone.”

“ _You’re_ my hangout buddy.”

“Find a new one. You’re not stuck in this house, you know.” That’s been established once or twice when he went out the country on his own a few times. “There’s a whole world out there filled with human boys just like me. Go talk to them.”

“But I don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“I’m scared of people who aren’t you.”

That comment has earned a questionable stare. He’s scared of people. Of _people_. He was having a **tear fest** over someone **who didn’t want** **his soul in a jar** anymore and he’s scared of _people_. “That is the biggest load of steak doodoo I have ever heard from you and you trashed my room, broke my computer, and blamed it on Lolo.”

How’d he found out about that? That was fool proof excuse. _I’ll just not talk about it._ “No really! Why do you think I only talk to _you_? They’re going to realize I’m the dead BJC, tell everyone they know, word’ll get to some wacko paranormal inspector, and the next thing I know I’m running in and out of a test tube for the rest of my undead life!”

While Spencer tried to think of a time in Davy Jone’s Locker when people realizing he’s BJC or a ghost stopped him before, another inquiry came to mind. “Why _do_ you only talk to me? I’m not complaining, but I _do_ take horror filming as a hobby. I could have captured you in a net or something and showed you to anyone I want. I **_can_**. I’m literally your worst nightmare.”

Billy rolled his eyes and smiled. This guy really doesn’t remember _anything_. “Let’s just say I had a good feeling about you when we first met.” Which was true in its own way. He forgot Spencer too when they ‘first met’, but the little guy had a good vibe. Eventually.

“Oookay.” Whatever that means. “Well, they’re other people who know you exist and won’t turn you in to the paranormal police.”

“But _will_ put me in a jar or sabotage my fabu soul. Or both.”

“I meant my friends, dumbledummy.”

“Oh, you mean The Jeevster and Shani…Shan…” He realized he didn’t come up with any nicknames for her. How embarrassing! A swagger name for a friend’s always had ready in the next five seconds before he had to say it and look at him on stage unprepared. He’s going to have to make it up to her somehow.

“Shanilla,” Spencer finished for Billy as he stared into the sky like he was The Thinker statue. How’d he forget her name? He’s with her almost every day.

 _Shanilla Ice Cream, that’s simple and easy!_ Billy bopped himself in the head several times. “Augh, stupid!”

“Yeah,” he said dryly, “remember next time.”

“I guess if you don’t want me around,” he sighed.

“Don’t be a diva. It’s just until I get my studies together, OK buddy?”

“Whateves…” Billy grunted while backing away. A long moan that lasted as long as he moved. He moaned as he fades through floor/ceiling until he reached the first floor then out the door and past Spencer’s window. His mouth stuck to the glass like a fish in a bowl as he breathes on it, still grunting. “Where do they live anyway?”

“That’s where _you_ find out.” But that is a good question. They never invite him over. Where’s _do_ they live? “Or check out the Wi-Fri or something. Gotta be _somewhere_ around town.”

Billy floats upward while licking the glass with his tongue, still groaning. “School is sabotage!”

* * *

 

Baruch wakes up to a lot of things, and 9 times out of 10, those things make him smile. He would wake up to the cries of his adoring fan screeching outside his window, to a fresh-out-the-oven breakfast made just for him, to a brand new guitar flat out his chest positioned for him to play, and so much more. This morning he woke up to something that made him neither sad nor happy. This evening was pretty freaky.

He woke up to a blue man besides his bed, that wasn’t his bed, that wasn’t in his room, which wasn’t in his house, which wasn’t anywhere near Hollywood _or_ the country he visited.

He stole a second to wonder which country he went to anyway.

His first thought was “kidnaping by Blue Man Group”.

His second was this was a dream representing his inner grief and disconnection to society.

His last thought was this involved something he did last night he couldn’t remember but will regret.

The blue transparent gentleman said three familiar words. “Man–Eating Ladybug.”

It all came rushing back.

“Now that the awkward part is over—”

Including the fact that the man Baruch was talking to a ghost. He screamed.

“ _Oh, mon Dieu_. Spencer!”

One que, Spencer popped up on the side of the bed with his best adorable cat face. “Joe!”

“Do that thing you did before with the cookie.”

Spencer rummaged in his overalls pouch and retrieved another peanut butter cookie from there. Wasn’t it a good thing to have come prepared for his cousin beforehand, just in case of an emergency like this? The cookie was dropped in the screaming orifice. Its magical taste powers went to work in Baruch’s mouth making all the muscles loosen and brain function sufficiently. “Gimme five more,” he said holding his hand out. Without a second to waste, what was asked of was receive. He picked up one out his hand and took another bite. So rich it could be currency. Smacking his lips, he turned to the blue guy. He had a long blue mustache and thick blue hair that same color. On his face were round glasses that’ll make Harry Potter jealous. There were pens inside the pocket protector of his white lab coat, and inside the coat was a white collared shirt and blue slacks.

Billy took a moment to acknowledge and congratulate this dedicated Blue Man Group fan.

He gestured a cookie at the fellow. “Who the heck are you?” he said with a full mouth.

Clearing his throat, the French man side, “I am the invisible ghost of Joseph La Bell. You may call me, Dr. Joseph.”

“Loser name!” the cookies mashed in his opened mouth. “What about DJ, that’s more phat and wazzat.”

“ _Pardon_?”

“I’m just saiyen—”

“Nevermind, that’s not important. Are you ready to stand?”

“I guess.” Baruch swerved his feet off the bed and stood up. He was standing up right with his regular clothes on except he had an added accessory. He was wearing a lab coat drowning in coffee stains. It was so not physique and it was insulting that someone dare drape this on his lavish figure. “What is this heap of caveman cloth? Get this thing off me!” Billy jerked the sleeves off in forcefully and roughly before Dr. J could protest…or stay viable.

He disappeared before Baruch’s eyes. “Woah,” he chuckled. “Choice trick, Broseph.” Spencer was lifting the coat back up to Baruch the moment he put it down. “Did you put that on me? You need a quick fashion lesson or two, little dude, cause that jacket is the antonym of poppin’.”

“You can’t see Dr. Jaw cep unless you put this on.”

Baruch felt highly offended. “Does he know who I am? I am the Cobra! The world revolves around me! When I want to see him, he will show himself to me, and I’ll dress any way I want to dress!” Scooping Spencer up in his arms and walking to the nearest door, he continued. “I don’t even need to _be_ here! Privilege. Wasted!”

“But Baruch—”

“Don’t you ‘but Baruch’ me, Mr. Jakob Brohbach! I had enough of you and your rebellion business. I’m older and more important than you. Whatever I say goes!” Baruch grabbed the door knob to the dark wooden door as he spoke, “So when I say ‘we are out of here like yesteryear’,” He twists the door knob, “I mean—” and opened the door to be greeted with the betty red eyes of a 7 foot tall mammoth monster roaring through the mouth with ten thousand fangs. Baruch was speechless and dumbfounded knowing there was evidence of the horrendous thing he briefly saw what felt like a few moments ago existing. His body couldn’t move a muscle, his words were lost in the in path between his mind and his mouth, and his eyes stared at it all practically drying themselves up from all the exposure.

He thought of death and something in him clicked to allow him to shut the door. He spun and held the door in place with his back.

“Cool,” Spencer exclaimed.

“Not cool,” Baruch murmured.

Spencer covered himself with the jacket so that Baruch and he were wearing it at the same time. Moments later, Dr. Joseph became vaguely visible right besides Baruch. Pinching his mustache playfully, he said, “ _Excuse moi_ ,” with but the driest sense of humor. “My apologizes, that was rude of me.” He spoke with hand gestures only an exaggerated second hand man of Medieval Times would use. “Sir Billy Joe of the Cobras, if you will. I do hope that I may have one of the _highest_ honors and the most _blessed_ privileges to stand a distance of at most 2 inches away from your ether and have my voice heard from one of the most consecrated ears that was sanctified by the powers that be.” He ended his plea with a respectable bow of the head.

Baruch nodded still in disbelief.

Dr. J bends back up after a heartbeat. “ _Excellent_!” He floats to one of the nearest door and phases through them. “We have too much to cover and not enough time!”

Spencer pumps his fist through the coat and kicks at the air. His words were muffled under the jacket, but Baruch could hear him say, “Adventure!” in the most adorable squeals.

 

 

* * *

 

He was in midair in the middle of town by the time he stopped moaning and bellowed, while glaring at the fourth wall, “There’s nothing to do in this crack pot town!” as the tool man returns very gigantic and ready to destroy behind Billy. “There could be giant robots terrorizing the city,” he began listing while the giant toolman hit a building down with his wrench claw, the impact leaving an explosion and thousands of horrified screams in its place. It kept walking like a casual day in the park, “Some call to adventure,” he seconded while a vortex to another world opened behind him and out came the ghost of Dr. Joseph La Bell.

“ _Sacre, bleu_! It worked! Baruch, you must come with me and warn your past self about Spencer’s head injury—“

“There can be an abrocious accident for all I care!”

“What are you talking about— _Mère de la Science_!” Dr. Joseph returned into the vortex in fear as a helicopter came crashing down on the city two inches near Billy. Its impact on the ground made the earth shatter and trailed behind a heap of smoke. It carried a cure to very deadly disease that was at the edge of harming a lot of people around the world. Now it will never get to where it needs to go. The trip did more damage than benefits.

“Anything to add some pizazz up in this town, but no. There’s nothing to look forward too,” finally, he looked behind himself, “except some lights, buildings, and Native American smoke signals.” He continued to grunt as he glides across town. “Why did I move here?”

Where could he even go? He’d rather go to the Wi-Fri with his friends, who are either busy or unable to see him. That’s the only other place he could think of to hang out. Just then, he saw Shanilla walking down the sidewalk near a shady old truck with a cell phone near her ear. “Yes, I’m ok mom.” Some yammering was happening on the cell phone every time she paused. “I know where I’m going….no I don’t need Rajeev, I can get there myself….It’s okay mom. I’ll make it there. Don’t worry….I love you too, bye.” Her thumb tapped the screen and she shoved her phone in her pocket. “My mother’s so caring,” she said with a smile.

She was going somewhere the average girl wouldn’t go to, maybe even boy, or sane person. Of course her mother would feel concerned when her daughter was on her way to the grave sight of Billy Joe Cobra, but in the end, she’s a big girl with her own decisions to make. Besides, it’s broad daylight. What’s the _worst_ that could happen? Making a left turn, Shanilla entered through the big silver gates of Beverly Height’s Graveyard where the famous BJC was supposedly buried. She was hoping to find something in there she could use to see Billy and figure out what the heck is going on between them. Billy was following her close behind. Shanilla followed the trail leading through the center of the entire place and stopped somewhere in the middle to think. “Now,” she said to herself, “if I was the tomb stone of the famous celebrity BJC, what would I look like? Ok, I represent someone who likes to put on a big show, go big or go home, so I would be big and noticeable, the first thing you see. Unlike everyone else, I’d be colorful and flashy. I’d literally have a sign saying ‘this is BJC’s tombstone’ because I want people to know I’m here.” She looked around for said tombstone while Billy remembered the day he was buried and he had to watch.

He was confused and in disbelief. He was watching himself get buried, even though he was right here. He didn’t understand why this had to happen to him, why this had to happen now. He tried to understand what this was, and what sick game this is. He can’t be dead. That makes no sense. He’s right here. He doesn’t _feel_ dead, and he could touch things and breathe and have a heartbeat like he usually does. What was happening right now? He tried to think about where he went wrong, or what he did wrong, or why he deserved this.

He could also remember that it was the first time he met Spencer after 6 years, and he had no idea who he was. That’s speaking for both of them.

To Billy, his first impression of Spencer was a dweeby kid who said, “Don’t think you got the memo. They said all _black_ , not blue. You got to respect that.”

To Spencer, his first impression of Billy was a dedicated jerky BJC fan who said, “And I don’t think _you_ got the memo. No losers past the red rope.” Before he pushed him angrily on the red rope and made the whole thing come tumbling down on the right aisle. “Gotta respect that.”

Billy laughed at that memory. It’s hard to believe there was a day these two hated each other’s guts.

Billy grabbed Shanilla by her armpits and lifts her up to follow him, beginning humored by her fear and confusion. She was right about what it looked like, but wrong about where it was, at least location wise. He was buried with his valuables and somewhere super-duper secluded, peeps be crazy these days, someone famous dies and start stealing graves. He buried himself where someone will least expect it. Somewhere nowhere in America at least. Let’s just say he’s hiding in plain sight. For parental reasons, Billy’s not going to take Shanilla there, but to the Wi-Fri, where they can talk.

He plopped her down on the couch near the TV where they usually sit and gave her a blue fedora from his back pocket. We will again not question it. Shanilla accepted it, thinking this was Billy giving this to her. It didn’t hurt to ask though. “Billy,” She said while putting the hat on her head, “is that you?”

“What is up in a cup, Shanilla Wafers?” Billy exclaimed friendly. “I haven’t seen you since never—!” Billy cocked his head to the side to avoid a thrown ketchup bottle. “Shan?”

“You stupid, stupid, idiot!” Every other word required a condiment bottle or a napkin holder to be thrown, each one Billy dodged.

“Woah!” He hiked up his pants to miss the second last mustard bottle. “Wait, Shangelica—!” and the last mustard bottle hit him square in the face, knocking him straight to the floor. Shanilla had a sure good arm.

She marched up to him and looked down on him with a frown. “What’s the matter with you? I was worried half to death for weeks!”

Billy sat up to talk, “Shanilla—”

“Why would you do that? I was so scared and worried and I didn’t know what to do! Did you think for a second how’d we feel?”

“No,” Billy finally managed to slip in. “I didn’t. I didn’t want to think about it because I thought you guys wouldn’t care.”

“Why wouldn’t we care?”

“I thought you guys hated me.”

“No one hates you, Billy.” Tears simmered in her eyes.

They both embraced in a hug on the floor and cried all of their feelings out.

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

Out of nowhere, Spencer gained this sudden hate for Shanilla that went away after a few seconds.

Hormones, am I right?

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

“So you and Spencer _did_ met when he was younger.” Shanilla said after a sip of a milkshake.

“Yep,” Billy smiled. “We were besties from the Westies.”

Silence lingered between them as Shanilla drank some more. Billy just went over a long complicated story of the origins of their broship and why Billy felt compelled to form into a complete Jack Monkey out of nowhere. It was an incredible, heart warming, and inspirational tale of true friendship and trust that Shanilla will never forget in her life time. She also thought it was a little adorable of Spencer to be so heavily connected to someone, and more so that he was a baby when it happened.“What did you promise him,” She finally asked, “if you don’t mind me asking.” She coughed a little and swallowed to moist her dry throat. She’s been feeling kind of sick lately.

Billy’s mouth twisted to an undetectable grin. _He_ doesn’t mind telling just about everything that can move on Earth about it, but he had to consider Spencer’s feelings too. Billy can imagine Spencer being embarrassed like a goose heading North for the winter if something like this leaked out to everyone in town, even though Spencer never said it in words. Eventually, he shook his head and scratched his neck. “Naw.”

“Come on! You owe me that much.”

“It’s kind of.” He avoided her gaze. “It’s kind of embarrassing. At least for Spencer.”

“He doesn’t have to know you told me. I’ll play dumb.”

Billy shrugged. He knows this was going to be hard to avoid. “He was, like, 9. I doubt he meant it anyway.”

“Come on, tell me!”

He sighed. _It’s Shanilla. The worst she could do is laugh._ “D’all right.” Holding his hands, he began. “Okay. So Spencer and his family came over to my place, and, let’s just say he had to stay longer than he should have. So we were alone together, we talked about this and that, and he—” Billy chuckled while covering his face.

“Keep going!”

Billy paused for effect and for prepping reasons. _Let the laughter come pouring down._ “We talked about this, that, and the third and he…” Billy rolled his eyes, “proposed to me.”

Shanilla’s smile dropped faster than MySpace's popularity.

“And I promised him he’d be the first person I’d marry, but he has to be 18 first. I don’t know. It’s was 1 in the morning and I was feeling kind of sad. It was nice to have that in the back of my mind for a while.” Slowly, Billy’s smile faded. “Then I literally pushed all we had together in a box and forgot all about him.” He didn’t want to think about things like that, but the thought would hit him at random times. He’ll imagine Spencer sitting in his room all day going back to his old antisocial ways and waiting for someone to come back and play with him while Billy sat on a boat and hit on over 15 girls at once. It hurt him beyond comprehension. “I was a jerk.”

“Don’t say that,” Shanilla said as she, with a napkin, wiped the drops of milkshake she spilled on the table from crushing the cup too hard. “You didn’t know any better.”

“I _should_ ’ve. He was the only real friend I had in a long time. He was the only real friend ever. He was my inspiration. He was my reason to keep going…” Billy felt himself expressing more than he should have. “You know, he’s a cool kid.”

“You’re never going to be happy if you look at past mistakes all day,” She said while wiping the ketchup off the table which was caused from squeezing the bottle too hard. “Here you are with a second chance to make up for it and you’re making the same mistake twice! Be there for Spencer. That’s the best you could do right now.”

“I guess.”

“I _know_.” She tossed the tissues into a near trash can like a professional basketball player. “We all saw how he can do without it.”

“Without what?”

“His big brother.”

That touched Billy’s heart in all the right ways. His body made him smile unconsciously.

Shanilla snatched a look at her watch and had mouth a gap.

She had a watch this whole time, don't worry about it.

“Oh no! I better get home. My mom will catch a bad case of cow if I don’t make it back by 6.” She was already off her seat and running towards the door. “I’m keeping the hat!”

“Want me to fly you over—?”

“NO!” She stopped and sun on her heels to tell Billy that, immediately regretting her tone. “I mean, nah.” She played with her hair, nervous habit. “It’s just a few blocks.”

“And a few blocks less of a walk you have to do if I take you.”

Her face was one of pity and self-resistance. Everyone is always so naive. “Billy, I can’t explain why, but it is very imperative that you stay away from my house.”

Why the heck couldn’t he? Is she too good for him or something? “Why?”

Every other word and sentence she said was a step closer to the door. “I’ll tell you. One day. When we’re ready. But just don’t come over, no matter what.” He hands were on the handle. “That goes for Spencer too.”

“What does all that mean?”

“Have a nice day, Billy. Good luck with Spencer!” She ran out the door like a majestic mystery. “Don’t follow me home!”

Well that wasn’t weird and implausible at all. That moment belongs in the _Makes Perfect Sense Hall of Fame_.

Oh, and to make the day even better, he has, yet again, no one to hang out with.

Why is this town so boring?

* * *

“We don’t have a lot of time to explain what is happening, so I’ll let Spencer do the talking.”

“The world is going to be destroyed.” He said it so casually and happily like it was taking a walk through a nice park.

“Sums it up quite nicely. But not the whole story.” Dr. J was leading them through the complex maze that is the moldy hallways. This time, the walls, ceiling and floors were made with the finest of silver and metal. It would shine in the light if there were any to brighten this hall. Only the blue Phosphorous light  of Dr. J was the thing that had this hallway nothing but dimly lit. it gave the environment a creepy, horrific atomospher. “I have reason to believe you are a famous, ‘Billy Joe Cobra’.”

“Here in the flesh,” Baruch said with a smirk. “Don’t tackle for my autograph—”

“The pleasure’s all mine just being next to you,” he said dryly. Although, Baruch didn’t catch the sarcasm and simply admired his growing fandom with a haughty smile. “Now to more important matters. You’ve came encounter with the, as you say, ‘man-eating ladybugs’, yes.” Baruch rather not remember it. “I shall take your anxious expression as a yes. We shall deal with your developing PTSD later, right now, it is time for demonstration.”

“Like what?”

“Like this next, what do you Americans say, ‘jump scare’?”

Baruch threw Spencer in the air and flipped him 35 times trying to catch him again when another giant lady bug popped up from behind one of the desk and came flying towards them with a hiss and spit of its green fluids. It’s wings hummed in the wind it battered like a helicopter and speed was none other than the work of Speed Racer. “AHH!” Both boys screamed while clutching each other tightly. The held their heads under waiting for the end to come to them.

Unexpectedly, the doctor actually _touched_ the thing with his bare hands nonchalantly. His palm tapped the black head of the monster and just like that, it shrunk down to size. It makes you ashamed of being so nervous in the first place.

The doctor floats to the shivering boys having his best poker face on. He waved the normal shaped lady bug over their heads until they bothered to notice that they weren’t dead (or one of them wasn’t yet (wink wink nudge nudge)). Both boys saw the little bugger trying to flutter away from the man’s finger and thumb, and they chuckled realizing they made the situation a bigger deal than it was. Baruch took Spencer’s fear as on opportunity to cover his own. “You okay, you scaredy kitty cat? Not so tough now, are you, so called horror fan?”

“I wasn’t scared!” Spencer fended with a ounding heartbeat. “I was practicing my battle cry for the Human Lady Bug war!” Spencer roared at Baruch with a more intimidating scream.

“You call that a battle cry? Roosters can do it better than that. Watch a pro do his magic.” Baruch roared at him back.

Then Spencer roared at him with a vengeance.

Then Baruch.

The Spencer.

It went back and forth until they were both roaring at the same time, and Baruch gave Spencer a raspberry kiss on the forehead.

Dr. J cringed at the sight. “Ahem.”

Baruch glared at him. “Take a picture.” He was in the middle of bromancing with his cousin, and this guy has the audacity to interrupt him! He didn’t even get the chance to savor the adorable giggles Spence was making when he was giving raspberries. But then, it hit him then that DJ cured that lady bug with his bare hands. “Wait, stop the music! Did you just cure that thing, bro?”

“If you feel ‘cured’ is the right word.”

“Holy beans on a string! Means you got all of them, right?”

“And by them all you mean,” he pulls the string of a curtain at the end of a wall and reveals a window display of crilly crawling giant bugs over lapping each other. The moved around in a way that gave you chills, and it was like watching a million bed bugs in a jar, except this jar was giant. Baruch felt the most horrible shiver run down their spin when he saw. “This amount?”

Baruch was speechless.

Closing the curtain, the Doctor floats over to one of his working tables. It had multiple test tubes and liquids in them like Baruch saw the first time he entered here. He felt like he was stuck in a loop when it came to this building. Every room he goes to keeps repeating itself. It’s either a room with three doors, a hallway, or a lab. “Now to the matter of why I’ve brought you here and held you captive in my lab.”

No one holds the Cobra captive! He _choose_ to stay here.

“I’ve been dead for quite some time thinking I was alive. It’s been difficult and lonely. I died without knowing it all like I dreamed I would. I died with an incomplete life pursuit and I couldn’t move on. I kept doing experiments with my new…abilities shall we say. Over and over, writing everything I found out in a book thinking I could find some closure in this feeling that I didn’t understand. This feeling to find out more. But I, as you say, hecked up.”

“The entire world is in danger.” Spencer said with positive enthusiasm. “And it’s all his fault.”

“That is true.” He studied a tube filled with bubbling liquid like it had the answer to all his problems. “A huddle of them an experiment gone wrong. Horribly wrong. And they just keep multiplying. I tried to contain them, but they’re starting to get out. It’s not long before they all do. And after that who knows what will happen…”

“Have they eaten anyone yet?” Baruch asked. Spencer looked up with interest.

“Thank heavens, no, but I’d hate for it to come to that. Which is why I need your help— YOU FOOL!”

Baruch blinked. It took him a few seconds to realize the absence of warmth and comfort that Spencer gave him. By then, he figured out that he wasn’t holding Spencer anymore. He scanned the dark lab left and right and behind and found Spencer with a pickaxe over his head ready to swing. Baruch futilely reached out for Spencer while yelling, “Little dude, no!” before Spencer swung the axe and made the hugest of cracks on the glass wall. It eventually disintegrated and everything went South.

* * *

 

TBC....


	12. Quick Question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you have that roommate that asks random questions in the middle of the night

“Hey Spence,” Billy whispered. Spencer could hear him in his dreams while he shook him awake. “Spence? You asleep?”

“Dude,” Spencer whined while he awoke. He was so tired, it took his brain 5 minutes to process the act of opening his eyes, which was something he wasn't doing. He didn't have to look at the clock, but feel the 2 o'clock in the morning through the air and the lighting being his eyelids. "I'm Z'sing right now, man..."

“I have a question.”

Billy does this sometimes in the night. He would have a random question, and, maybe 2 in the morning or so, and he would wake Spencer up just to ask it. It’s always the same questions with this guy. The same stupid questions. “The sky is blue because of water vapor.”

“No, not that.”

The same stupid questions. “I’m not secretly Danny Fenton.”

“Not that.” He can feel the doubt in his voice.

The _same_ stupid questions… “Your purpose in life was be the fabulous bad boy we all know and love—”

Billy made a fart noise. “I already know that!”

“Then what? Some people have schools to be in the next day.” Or should he say _today_.

Spencer waited a heartbeat for Billy’s question. He was just about to fall back asleep when he asked, “How many planes did you count?”

How many planes? Does he mean in his lifetime? “What the heck are you talking about?”

“Back at the old country, you used to count the planes that went by your window, right?”

Spencer’s eyes opened a little and he stared at the alarm clock he owned. Memories of the old country rushed in his brain all at once. Memories he could have anyway. The back of his eyes flashed the picture of the very last airplane he saw before he had to pack up his things for his new home in America. It was white and large with a green stripe on it. It flew against the sun and overhead where Spencer’s house was and left with an earsplitting shriek from the wind it cut. Spencer gazed at the sky, tears threatening to emerge. Planes went in a lot of directions where he lived, but the ones that flew over his house never failed to make him tear up. He didn’t know why, but thinking of the planes flying away from the airport always made him sad. It was especially saddening to know that last plane he counted was the one that flew above his house. He rolled his body to Billy’s direction to see him. “How’d you know that?”

“You told me.” Billy’s palms were holding up his head. Spencer could see him looking down at him with a serious face, that same one he saw before, shall we call, ‘the misunderstanding’ happened.

“No I didn’t.” He stared up at the ceiling, feeling more awake than ever. “I never told anyone that.” Not his dad, friends, or anyone. It's not that he kept it a secret, but the topic never came up before. _Random question, did you ever count planes in your spare time back in the old country?_

“When you were little, you told me.”

Spencer was shaking his head. He and Billy had more than a lot of catching up do, and Spencer couldn't begin to comprehend how much it was. It was wonder, although, why Billy waits until now to tell him so. When they first met ('first' having a loose definition), Billy never waltz up to him and was all 'Hey cuz, long time, not enough see, eh?'. He remembered those first few days fondly thinking of Billy as a beef jerk-dish jack monkey that'll give him a hard time for the rest of his stay here in the mansion. He passed of a descriptive, fluent message that he never will, doesn't, and never **did** like Spencer. The point is, Billy treated Spencer like they never saw each other before and waits until now to admit that they did. Why did Billy keep it a secret? What's he hiding? 

Interrupting Spencer's personal inquiries, Billy asked, “What did you count up to?”

It’s been a while since he thought about it, but he could remember the number like the back of his hand. “313.”

Billy could feel all his guts dropping into a bottomless pit. “Mammoth numbero.”

“I started when I was ten and did it up until we left the country to come to your funeral. I never understood why I had to it. I just did. It was a habit that’s second nature to me, like biting your nails when you’re nervous. I have no idea where it came from.” His head tilts to the side while his eyes darted up at his cousin’s direction. “You’ve been around me more times than I can remember. You know where it started?”

“You send out some freakish vibes, man.”

“What?”

Billy's lips were quivering. For unknown reasons, Billy looked to be on the verge of tears.

"What's the matter?"

Billy was jiggling his noggin and averting his eyes from his cousin, as if he was guilty of something. "Nothing." The wall on the other end of the room was more interesting then Spencer's face. "You just...ugh man. I'm such a jerk!"

"What makes you say that?" Spencer averted the word, 'admit'. "You've had worse days, but you didn't bring down the pain too harsh on me yet."

"No. It's just that you're so nice and forgiving and you deserve better treatment than what I gave you."

He took note that the word 'give' was in a past tense. "Billy, how many times do I have to tell you? I forgive you."

"You don't remember enough to forgive me." Billy's tone was dull and blank like Jotaru Kujo on a regular Sunday morning. It made Spencer uneasy, thinking of experiences previous.

It must stink to hold in all of this in all the time. How long was this running through Billy's mind without a complete and solid word of forgiveness from the one he betrayed. Spencer will admit, he thinks to himself sometimes if he got a lick of any memory these two supposedly shared, would he have these same thoughts and feelings. Then Spencer would remind himself that it doesn't matter. What was then was before, and Billy is here now. Maybe not on purpose because he haunts this mansion, but he's here. Spencer sat up on his bed, and outstretched his hands so he could embrace his cousin in a hug. "Can't say you're wrong," he said, "But I remember enough to know it's not worth holding a grudge over."

"Really?" Pulling away from Spencer, Billy took a dare and saw him straight in the face. "What do you remember?"

A large white bubble appears above their heads showing a picture of everything Spencer described to Billy in the respected shots they were taken from during the time it happened. No one knows how that bubble was formed, or what living organisms were in there, but it's very convenient, so no one thought about it as hard as they had to. "I remember that time you did me the greatest solid and let me use your house as museum to raise money. And that time you taught me how to fake play the guitar for the school's talent contest. I remember that time we were ghost together, and that time you helped me become a sports star, and that time we made a video together for a song you made. And I especially remember on the first day of school, when I thought I was loser worth less than a penny, you were right there beside me the whole day to help me through it, and I don't even want to think about what would happen if you weren't. It's not limited to that, so if you need a list I'm more than happy to make one."

Billy's eyes could be mistaken for bowls if you didn't know any better.

"Stop thinking about this so much, Billy. What you did doesn't matter anymore. It doesn't matter to me, and it shouldn't to you, and I'll keep telling you until you believe it too. It's so true that it rhymes!" Spencer's mouth curved upward.

You can tell that Billy was overfilled with emotion just by looking at his puppy cry, goggle sparkle eyed face. Billy acted on the powerful urge to hug Spencer until his head popped out (of course keeping  his head on). "I love you, man!"

Spencer hugged Billy back while leaning onto him and resting his chin on Billy's shoulder. He's kinda getting used to this hug thing. He wasn't a big fan of it before, but he started to notice that it was actually kind of nice it was when he lets Billy do it. It made his insides feel fluffy and gave him a sense of security that made him think everything was going to be okay. "I, uh, love you too, Billy." He pats his back twice. "Heh heh." He says it loosely just because Billy said it and it would be rude to not say it back. Plus he meant it, again, in the loose sense of the term. Although, now that this is his third time willing to say it those words, he thought of what they meant to him. What does he mean when he says he loves Billy? _Like a brother, what else? Why am I ever questioning it?_

They pulled apart and looked at each others smiles.

_What else **could**  it mean? He's a guy that I like being around and I love him unconditionally like a brother. A nice guy...who's nice looking...and pretty cool...and has a goofy smile..._

By seeing each other, the world around seemed to dishevel and fuzz up until the other was the center of attention. He watched Billy while Billy watched him.

They stared into each other’s eyes for who knows how long for no reason at all. Billy was any animal _but_ a Cobra spirit wise in Spencer’s opinion, but one thing Billy really got down pact was his eyes. His eyes were hypnotic; you couldn’t look away once you saw them. They froze you in place, and you’re at his mercy, just like a Cobra. It scared Spencer like crazy sometimes, and other times, if the moment is willing, he’ll just stare.

Spencer watched as Billy’s eyes darted to different parts of Spencer’s face, landing on his chin, then back to Spencer’s eyes. Billy's eyes were closer than they were before, nearly 3 inches away from each other. Frighteningly enough, Spencer had no intent to widen the distance. Spencer felt like the prey to a predator as it draws closer and closer to you while you're stuck in place. His mind went white blank like someone just switched his brain off. He didn’t know a brain could shut down into nothing so intently as this except in math class. A juncture later, his mind was refilled with all things Baruch Cohen. He thought of the way his spikey hair floats when he levitates, and his nice slender body, and the fact that he likes peanut butter and bear claw doughnuts. He thought of his voice and eyes and ears, and everything else until his mind went to Billy's lips.

_Mallory._

_Lolo._

_Sam._

He stopped all the thoughts before it made him do something he’ll regret. With will power and self-promotion, Spencer looked away, darting his eyes to the right where his clock is. “I should go back to bed.” He said louder than intended.

“Yea.” Billy finally backed away, giving Spencer space to breath. “Wouldn’t want you to be tired in the morning.”

He turned to his side and closed his eyes, trying to get back the sleepiness he lost. “Night, Billy.”

He didn’t answer back, hesitating his next words. “I’ll be you’re friend for as long as you’ll have me,” Billy said. “And I’ll never leave you. I hope you know that.”

“Yeah. I do.” I mean, what did they _just_ finish talk about? The meaning of time and space? This was LITERALLY **5**  seconds ago. In one ear, and out the other, am I right?

Besides, unless Billy moves to a different house to haunt, he really doesn’t have that much of a choice.

“I’ll be out back.” Billy’s body flies to the sky and near the window. “Thanks for answering my question. Good night, Spencer.” He flew through the glass and into the night, the moon lit brightly like milk.

 

* * *

 

Spencer stared at the clock again with unblinking eyes all night. He was scared of closing them and unconsciously feeling how close Billy’s face to his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I feel like I'm sucking harder the more I write.  
> I'm sorry there's so much dialogue and repetition, but know I'm putting in nothing but my best effort into writing this story.  
> Thanks for all your comments and kudos! I've had the best time writing this and it's nice to know others are enjoying it too. I'll still be writing as hard as I can for you guys and myself!  
> GO ECTOFEATURE


	13. Halloween Special Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a Halloween special that has no connection to the current story.

                “No.” Spencer groaned tossing a green Frankenstein costume. “Too angry.” For every other outfit he picked up, he had an excuse not to wear it. _The Wolf_ was too hairy, _The Dracula_ was too bloody, _The Skeleton_ was too last episode, and _The Devil_ was too babyish. None of these are good enough! He growled.

When he tossed that last outfit out the closet, Billy floats up through the floor in a pink dress with pink hair in a bubble gum texture. Billy was just as anxious about this Halloween, trying to find the perfect outfit that is both creative and reflective of his beauty. He tried on many in his super special closet, for now settling with this one. He still feels a little unsure if this is the right costume, but he can look at the mirror and still say he’s gorgeous.

                Oh, who is he kidding? He’s gorgeous no matter what!

Saying, “I feel so pretty today, just like every day,” he held his face in his hands and smiled to himself. Then, he watched Spencer toss over a black and white jumpsuit with a D in the center saying it was too predictable. His moment in self-praise was interrupted by Spencer since he’s not usually this precise about clothing. Well he is fussy about what he puts on, but he normally finds the simplest thing in his closet and moves on with his life. Blinking he floats over to the frustrated little cousin. “What’s up, Spenderman?”

                “I can’t find a costume to wear for the Halloween party at the Wi-Fri.” Spencer said angrily. “I finally got Mallory to go on a date with me using my irresistible method of persuasion—”

 

* * *

 

                In a distance past, Spencer has a lovely lady named Mallory by the leg, and while he’s begging with tears and sorrow he is being dragged across the room while she’s trying to move her leg.

“PLEASE! GO ON A DATE WITH ME, PLEASE! FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY! COME ON! FOR ONCE JUST DATE ME! **_ONCE_**!” This goes on until she says yes. “Really?”

“Yes, I’ll go to the dance with you, just let go of me, please.”

Spencer sets her free, remembering to say his magic words, “Thank you!” with a smile.

Mallory runs for her dear life.

 

* * *

 

                “—and I want to have the best costume in the whole dance. I don’t want her to regret it by looking like a…jack monkey…”

                “What’s the problem? You got, like, a _bagillion_ to choose from.” Billy looked back at the literal mountain of clothes taking up half of the room. Spencer doesn’t have many combinations of clothing and there’s limited occasions that are appropriate for the clothes he has, but darn you for saying he’s not prepared for Halloween.

                Spencer slouched, having a strong sense of defeat on his shoulders. He wants to make this night just right with the right costume, and fate can’t find one for him that feels like something Mallory would be impressed by. He saw each one and thought of something a typical country bumpkin like him would wear, feeling ashamed that the option to buy this load of crud slipped his mind. “I have a bagillion _lame_ ones to choose from you mean. None of the costumes I have are good enough.”

                Billy opened his mouth.

                “Yes, I know you have some costumes.”

                Billy opened his mouth again.

                “No, I don’t to borrow them.”

                “Why not? Do you realize these are _The Cobra’s_ pieces you’re getting here, dude? Once in a life time opportunity knocking at your door right now.”

                “Billy, I know a scary guy with scary costumes when I see one, and knowing you, you probably have the lamest costumes money could buy.” Spencer stood up and walked away from his closet, leaving Billy with his mouth a gap.

                While Spencer grabbed his covers on his bed, considering maybe becoming a ghost this Halloween, Billy floats up to him with an angry princess scowl. “What makes you think I have lame costumes?”

                Spencer gave him a quick body check having a dry expression on his face.

                Billy crossed his arms and turned his back to Spencer, being sure to add a hair flip and scoff. “You’re just jealous because I’m pretty.”

                Spencer flopped the covers over his head. His voice was vaguely audible through the night sheets. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m sure I can get better. Now can ya get a bro some scissors?”

                Billy stretched his hand until he reached the other side of the wall and pulled back with a shelf full of trophies in hand. They sparkled gold in the moonlight and nearly blinded the two bros. “I’ll have _you_ know that I was nominated for the Annual October Entertainers Gathering for best Halloween costume and won ten years in a row by a landslide!”

                Lifting the covers out of his way, he stared at Billy’s trophy collection with awe. He wasn’t kidding! Billy really did know his stuff. But then again… “You didn’t bribe the judges, did you?”

                Billy gasped. “What kind of lying, _cheating_ **villain** do you take me for?”

                Spencer stared at him.

                Billy rolled his eyes. “Okay, I _might_ have did it _once_ …”

                Staring.

                “Plusanotherninetimes BUT that’s not important.” Billy grabbed Spencer’s wrist. “The point is I can hook you up.” Billy floats Spencer to the elevator and pushed the button to go down. “To my super special closet we go!”

 

* * *

 

                The room was dark and large with a huge mirror for a wall and thousands upon thousands of rows of clothing hung up in hangers reaching to heights too far to imagine. Spencer gazed up with awe actually impressed. He knew Billy kept plenty of clothes, but geez. Although, this does explain where he pulls his file of clothes out of. “Do you really need this many clothes?”

                “Of course.” Billy said with a stack of clothes in his arms. He was back in his normal clothes thinking that pink dress didn’t call out to who ‘Billy’ is. “Always need to be one step ahead of the seasons. One day it’s all slacks, you turn your head for one second, and BAM plungers are all the rage.”

“Why would you wear a plunger? That’s dumb”

Billy smirked as he got close to his cousin near the mirror. “That’s _just_ what they hope you’d think. Now what are you in the mood for?” He pulled out a black suit from the hubble that came with cat ears and a white tail. “Something sassy?” Then a black costume with a dictator hat and a walking stick. “Something chic?” Finally, a pink dress that came with a pink bubblegum texture hair was put in front of Spencer’s body. “Or something says, ‘this is who I am, mother…’”

                “Isn’t this _you’re_ costume?”

                “Nah. I realized my true beauty is my one true body and soul.” Ducking behind a mirror, Billy popped back out from the other side while Spencer lifts a gothic vampire outfit from the floor conveniently placed in the air. “I’m going out in my birthday suit!”

                “Birthday what?” Spencer looked away from his inspection to find Billy butt naked. Wide eyed, Spencer stared trying to process this information in his head. Something was missing on Billy that didn’t feel right. Once it sank in that the ghost of Billy Joe Cobra is naked in front of him, he shielded his eyes and covered the ‘naughty bits’ with his hands. “BILLY!”

                “I know, it’s a pretty good idea, right?” His hands were on his hips and he puffed out his chest proudly.

                “You insane in the membrane?! Put some clothes on, for crying out loud!”

                “Yeah, you’re right. Can’t mess up the costume before the actual event. Thanks for the tip, bro.” He ducked back behind the mirror.

                Spencer walked away trying to blink away the horrific image from his eyes still carrying the gothic vampire outfit in hand. It was black and white with a red tie and black ripped slacks. A droplet of ectoplasm oozed out the wig, but no one noticed. “That’s goanna take a few months of therapy to forget.” Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he checked to time, finding it’s nearly time for the party to start. “Oh no! The party starts in ten minutes!”

                “Don’t want your senorita waiting,” Billy replying. He quickly spun around Spencer to take off his clothes and put on the first thing Spencer was carrying. “If there’s _one_ lesson I learned back in the old days is to not keep a senorita waiting. She will make you regret it in all the wrong ways…..” Billy looked at the air which carried a film of those horrible memories.

                Spencer looked at himself in the mirror, feeling self-conscious. “Wait! I don’t want to go out as a vampire. That’s so—”

                “Bro, I am _not_ letting you be late because of your selective clothing issue.” He sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes. “Such a fashionista.” They left the room and went outside through the garage. Billy plopped Spencer on his bike and commanded him to move forward. “Onward, bromosapien!”

                Spencer sighed. “Fine. I guess it looks alright on me—OW!” he screamed while covering his mouth with his hands.

                “What?”

                “I bit my lip.” Spencer licked his lips to check his oddly feeling teeth to find that his carnivore teeth have grown one or two inches. “What the heck?”

                “Eh, probably puberty.” Billy levitates on without him. After accepting the fact that his meat teeth have grown, Spencer pushed his pedals and followed after Billy.

                _Blood…_

It was a voice that wasn’t Spencer’s whispering in his head. He didn’t take too much into it though and thought maybe this costume is making him think of blood.

 

* * *

 

                “Hey, Billy.”

                “Yea, broski?”

                “Did you ever get a fear of the sun out of nowhere and a sudden desire for blood and acquiring a queen to rule beside you?”

                “It’s just puberty.”

                “Do you also get the sudden urge to talk in a Transylvanian accent?” he said in a Transylvanian accent.

                “It’s all part of grown up, Spencil case, you’re fine.” In the distance, the Wi-Fri’s openings streamed with multicolored lights and loud house club music that made the whole building bounce. “We’re here and we’re deer,” Billy said now in a reindeer costume.

                “What happened to the birthday suit?”

                “I thought that was too much for the world to handle. My face as it is is enough to faint a whole country. Now Christmas in Halloween is where it’s at! Look at my cute little tail,” Billy said wagging his behind having Spencer ignore him by not looking the direction of the buns. “Do you have the Christmas spirit in you, Spent. Nicholas?”

                “It’s hard enough getting in the _Halloween_ spirit, or having a spirit in general. I feel dead inside.”

                “Definitely puberty.”

                The doors burst open with a dancing Rajeev dressing up as Cim Cardash, a women who’s famous for reason’s people are not that concrete on. He shakes his hips side to and does the twist while cheering himself on. “Oh yeah. That’s right. It’s my birthday.” He spots Spencer and Billy on the side of the building while Spencer parks his bike. He greeted them with a “Yo!” and rushed over to them with a tackle. “Took you long enough to get here.”

Spencer suddenly felt fatigue, feeling a need to sit down and just…sit. He started to swivel as he stood in Rajeev’s arm. “Oooh…hey Rajeev. Sorry I’m…” The world spinning, he finally sat down on his bike again just to gain some composure. “Woah…”

“Hey, you feeling okay, man? You don’t look too good. And you’re skin seen tanner days.”

He was referring to Spencer’s now whiter than chalk skin and his dark, hallow eyes. “I’m good. Just tired all of a sudden.”

“Nothing a dance can’t fix.” Grabbing his wrist, he continued. “Let’s hike and Ike, brother!” and pulled him along inside.

Billy was left, gasping in shock. “This is a _dance_ party? Oh man! I can’t wear _this_ , they won’t let me play in any reindeer games!” He scurried away in a panic thinking of another outfit to wear for Halloween.

 

* * *

 

                Shanilla fixed her make up in the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. She felt pretty in her Indian Queen attire. Her confidence boosted a little and she felt worthy of being noticed by Spencer. He’ll look at her in his fancy black suit and go, “Oh Shanilla, you look beautiful tonight.”

                And she would say, “You really think so?”

                And he would say, “Shall we dance?”

                And she would say, “What about Mallory?”

                And he would say, “Who’s Mallory?” and they’ll dance the night away under the full moon and share a blissful ki—

                “HEY, this’ll be perfect!” Billy whirled around Shanilla, switching their outfits. Billy checked his hips, shoulders, butt, and face in the mirror, commenting himself in unison, “Mm-hm, tots fabu, chic, and five-ever pret. Love it!” Billy ballet danced out the room with a huge grin on his face and a greater amount of confidence in himself than ever before. “Thanks Shanilla!”

                Shanilla looked down at herself, and gulped. Is this a reindeer costume? Christmas in Halloween is seriously degrading, especially in front of Spencer. She can’t go out like this! “Billy, wait—!” but before she could finish her call, a group of girls walked laughing in to fix their make-up or powder their nose or whatever it is girls do in the bathroom 5 times a day. Shanilla can’t be seen like this! What if word gets to Spencer? She’ll _die_ of embarrassment! Quick as a flash, she hopped inside one of the stales and sat on the toilet, looking through the lacuna of the stale to see Mallory (zombie nurse) and Lolo (Frankenstein’s Wife).

                Lolo entered saying, “I just can’t believe you’d _consider_ dating that Dork-a-tron 9000!”

                “He’s been very persistent. I thought ‘why not’.”

                “Sounds to me like you’re kindness got the better of you again, Mallory. You have to learn how to say no, even if they are pitiful losers like Spencer.”

                “It’s not that I didn’t _want_ to—”

                “No, no.” Lolo held up a finger. “Losers need to know their place on the food chain.” She smirked. “And I got just the thing prepared for that.” She snatched her phone out her black white purse. “This was supposed to be for Rajeev, but I can change one or two things. Meh, what the heck, I’ll do both. Kill two dorks with one file. Look at this.” Mallory, Lolo, as well as Shanilla, saw the picture of Lolo’s plan illumining from her phone. Lolo discreetly whispered its contents to Mallory while Shanilla silently gasped.

                “Isn’t that a little harsh?”

                “Calm down. This’ll be nothing more than a story to laugh at in college. It’s not a big deal.”

                “If you say so.”

                _I have to warn Spencer!_ Shanilla thought, a courage to disregard the opinions of other taking control of her rising body.

                “Oh, did you see Shanilla’s outfit?”

                “No, not yet.”

                “She looks pretty.”

                “Oh really? I was ready to snap a photo of the three dorakateers when I see them and totally dispect their costumes. I’ll take your word for it, but if she comes in in anything other than super chic, I’m sending it to every website I know and then some to ruin her life.”

                Shanilla sat down.

                “Now go out and do your part,” Lolo shooed Mallory away. “I need to reapply my make-up.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a stick of black lipstick and glides it on her lips 34 times without skipping a beat.

                _Okay_ , Shanilla said in her self-pep talk, _you’re ticket to Embarrassment Town is here with you in the bathroom and you’re in a reindeer suit on Halloween. No big deal. I just have to wait until she leaves, right?_

 

* * *

 

                The party was going great. Good music filled the dance floor, the group was huge, everyone was participating and having a great time, food and drinks were delish, and the night was probably the best of their lives. Rajeev couldn’t find Lolo yet, so he danced besides Spencer, who was as stiff as wood as he stood. Spencer’s incurs were now metaphorically the size of a walrus and his skin was whiter than white. Something about his life force made him feel drained and depressed, like he shouldn’t do life anymore. Not living was the way to go. Plus he was so _hungry_ , but nothing he ate satisfied him one bit. He dares to say he ate half of the table, but it wasn’t enough. He needed something else in his system. Something…red…and juicy…. He licked his lips as he pictured the thick red substance oozing into his mouth, but he could tell what it was. Was it berry jam? Or maybe fruit punch?

No. This red craving was thicker.

                Something from the heart...

                Rajeev, naturally concerned for his bro, poked him on the shoulder when Spencer was being unresponsive. Spencer swayed from side to side, but was unphased by the gesture. “Dude?”

                “Hungry….” Spencer growled. He gazed at his friend’s neck, veins pulsing behind the thin layer of skin that covered it. A sudden urge…no… _desire_ to bite Rajeev’s neck to get to those veins came to him and he growled like a tiger.

                “Seriously? You nearly ate the whole snack bar.” Rajeev dug in his pocket while Rajeev pulled out some garlic bread from his back and handed him some, but Spencer rejected it, or rather hissed at it and retreated dramatically, and scurried away to a dark corner in the party flawing his cape in the air as he left.

That cape was never there before, but that’s fine.

“Weird. He’s acting a little funny today.”

“Geez, that kid,” Billy said appearing off the floor boards, “I get he’s going through some mood swings or whatever, but he don’t have to be such a premodana about it. I mean, get over yourself, man.”

Looking at Billy for a moment, he squinted his eyes once he saw his Indian princess costume. He vaguely remembered seeing something like that in his sister’s room, but he doesn’t believe in that memory because his sister would never put on something like that on dad’s watch. “Hey, that costume looks familiar…”

“What? Unoriginality!?” Billy’s been known his whole life to be one step ahead of the fashion magazine. No one _ever_ thinks of Billy’s outfits as something they’ve seen before. “That’ll ruin my street cred!” Billy floats away again to search for a new outfit.

In the distance there was screaming from a random girl in a nurse’s costume. Everyone turned to see what the commotion was about to find Spencer sucking on her neck, teeth inside her veins, and reenacting a scene from the oldest of the old Dracula movies when the girl looks so helpless and the guy looks so parasite-y. The girl in the nurse’s costume fell on the ground, motionless and deeply in shock. She felt a powerful case of paralysis, immobile, and she looked close to dead. Spencer jerks his head back, face directed towards the sky, a toothy grin that makes your skin crawl marked on his intimidating face, satisfied. His sharp tongue glides across his pointed teeth, licking away the excess life blood off his lips and teeth. Afterwards, he lets out a sigh, finally figuring out what he needed in life all this time.

Blood…

A glare of red flashes on his eyeballs and the full moon shone on him. The DJ switches the music to something dramatic as Spencer tilts his head down, slowly, and turned his body towards the crowd of baffelers. An evil grin grew on his lips, showing his extended sharp teeth. “Hungry,” he hissed as a cloud of cold vapor slipped out his lips.

Naturally, everyone attempted to get the woo-hoo out of there.

“How’s it going bros!” shouts Billy phasing through the Wi-Fri entrance. He had a green set of headphones, a regular T-shirt and jeans, and a stubbly beard on. He made sure to show some lip and hip as he said, “My name is-” squeaky voice “- _Billy Joe_ , and welcome to the best party of your life!” He puckered his lips in confusion when teens were rushing out the door by the hundreds, passing right through him. What this? Is he being unnoticed? Is his super fabulous self being unnoticed to the public? He was offended. _Astounded_! He demanded _lawyers_! “What is this malarkey?!” he said clenching his fist. He worked a good 2 minutes on his makeup and he demanded praise right this minute! “I worked hard on this fitter! I demand to be washing up in a shower of compliments!

“You look _delicious_ …”

Billy giggled. “I know.” He flipped his hair oblivious to Spencer being right behind him. “I do my best to please the sore eye—”

Suddenly, Billy’s neck stung in to close places. His eyes expanded, pupils dilated, and breath taken. Bones shivering (if he had any), Billy slowly and choppily turned his head to the side of pain to see his bro sinking his teeth into his neck and sucking out ectoplasm. When Billy screamed, Spencer pulled him down to the floor. Billy flung arms in protest, screaming like a feminine toddler. He kicked and punched the air as Spencer drank his disgusting fill. He couldn’t take it anymore and retreated, spitting what he drank back in Billy’s face, repugnant. “You taste like dishwater,” he commented with a nasty edge. Worst judgment he ever made on something yummy, (so far anyway). Billy was misleading because of his slender neck and tempting opportunity to strike.

Just then, a small voice in the back of his mind told him that he just drank the blood of his best friend, but that voiced was hushed by another. It was diabolic and hostile, far more persuasive than his good conscience. He’s been filling Spencer’s mind with thoughts of and convincing him of desires for blood and destruction, getting louder and louder, overshadowing any good morals Spencer had at first. Spencer didn’t know where it was coming from, but, oh, it felt so _good_ to listen. That first drank he had brought nothing the best shivers of delight through his whole body. Ignoring the temptation is like ignoring a freshly sliced cake with no one’s name it.

“Hungry,” Spencer growled again, that same glare of red passing through his eyes. He needed more blood. He was starving for something good. Ignoring Billy’s complaints on the taste of his blood, Spencer sniffed the air, smelling out for more victims.

The back room had his friend Rajeev in it.

The girl’s bathroom had a girl in it. Spencer could hear her talking to herself. _When’s that sheva going to get here_ , It said.

“Food.” Spencer smirked.

 

* * *

 

“When’s that sheva going to get here?” Lolo tapped her heel on the floor, impatiently. “It’s been, like, forever since she left. And why is the room so quiet.” The music went super dramatic and then shut off out of nowhere for no reason. What was Mallory doing out there?

Shanilla sat in the stale, having this powerful urge to use the toilet. She didn’t want to, since Lolo was right there and could hear her use the bathroom. But she really, _really_ had to go! _Leave already_. She crossed her legs in two twist and bit her bottom lip. She whimpered sofetly and squints her eyes. Why doesn’t this woman making like a meeping tree? WHY?

Shanilla heard the door creak opened, a sign that someone is entering. To take a peek at who it was, she peered at the stale’s opening, slightly seeing Lolo stare at the entrance in confusion. “Spencer? What are _you_ doing here, creep?” She too two or three steps back. “Get out of here. This is the _girl’s_ bathroom.” A black shadow pasted Shanilla’s view. “What are you doing? Get away from me!” Her voice was demonstrating more and more of a tremor. “Stop!” Those were her last words before her blood curdling screams mixed with ludicrous amounts of hissing filled the room. Shanilla froze in place, fear filling her body and mind and making her body tremble and heart speed up. She could only see but so much through the crack on her stale, which is the second one closest to the door. She couldn’t see what was at the end of the bathroom, and she was very curious as to why Lolo was as silent as the calm before the storm. All she could hear was the breaths of the devil.

The black figure who Lolo called Spencer walks over to one of the mirrors, his black cape slithering behind. He stared into the mirror that had no one looking back at him to say hello. He touched the glass, missing who he once was for just a slight second before he sniffed the air. “I smell a creature…” he hissed with a grin.

Shanilla knew that voice more than anyone in the world, even if it did have a sudden Transylvanian accent, but she refused to believe who it was.

Spencer turns about face, right to the stale where Shanilla was. She was in the far back of the toilet, feet high and out of view. She knew Spencer as one of her great friends who would never hurt a living soul if he could help it. She knew that in her heart unconsciously. So backed up here in the stale trying to stay out of Spencer’s view for the reasons that she feel in danger was something alien to her. Her mind is repelled and she denies this whole matter, thinking it to be some sick dream. Even so, her heart was still pounding, and it could be heard in her ears. She could feel Spencer 2 inches away from the door, a harsh rush of coldness went down her spine as he checked the crack with his glowing red eyes for any—

Spencer jerked his head back, getting a big whiff from the air. “Kleet…” Grabbing his cape, he left the premises in less than a second. The door creaked opened and slammed shut. The room was so silent you can hear a pin drop on a pillow.

If Shanilla had to go to the bathroom before, she didn’t now.

Shanilla didn’t notice how much she was shivering until now. A leaf would praise her efforts. Daring to let her feet touch the ground, she finally got herself out of the stall. She looked to her left, and places her hove covered hands over mouth to hide her shriek.

Lolo lay motionless on the ground, mouth a gap, eyes opened wide for the world to see. She looked drained from everything that defines living, especially on her skin which was so white she could be seen in the dark. Two red dots where on her neck, marking a puncture. Shanilla was speechless. This was a girl she went to school with, no matter how mean she was. This girl was a factor in Shanilla’s life that she grew accustomed to. She was a 14 year old girl named Lolo Calorie from the same school Shanilla goes to.

Shanilla took a step back, then another two, still staring at Lolo. Finally, she was able to force herself to turn towards the bathroom’s exit and run like the wind, the bells on her reindeer costume chiming and tears streaming down her face.

 

 

To be Continued...

          


	14. Christmas Special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels appropriate to add a picture somewhere before I start.  
> Like a huge banner to make begin the thing with a huge bang!  
> Something cute with Christmas Lights on the corners, maybe have the frames in the shape of a box with Christmas leafs and it'll say "MERRY COBRAMAS" and Billy and Spencer will do something cute like kissing each other on the cheek under the mistletoe  
> yeah.  
> That would be the right thing to do.....

The best holiday of the year when everyone around him showers him with gifts he’ll leave in the closet to never be seen again but will enjoy for 5 seconds because it cost over 10,000 dollars was coming. The snow was snowing on his phone, warning him of the day to come. It rarely snows in Hollywood, but it’s nice to pretend with his snow maker he’s going to get this Christmas. No one knows he wants a snow maker this Christmas, but he knows he’s going to get one. I mean, they _should_ just _know_.

You know what, why should this day be all about some Chris guy? The world _revolves around_ Baruch. Today should be about _him_ , just like every day. He’ll look into renaming this day Cobramas, and making it about everyone around the world giving gifts to the Cobra for one…week.

He remembered that Chris was an English Christian name. English Christian names made him think of common names like James, and then other common names like John, Ashely, and Stephen. Then Stephen reminded him of the name Stephen King, the legendary thriller book and script writer that is the author of dozens of literary novels that keeps to the genre of horror. The word ‘horror’ made him think of classical creatures dealing with that same genre like monsters such as, oh I don’t know, The Man Eating Ladybug. Man eating lady bugs reminded him of the ghost of Dr. Joseph, a mad scientist whose soul lives on until he completes his time machine, and how they had to get rid of all those lady bugs before the day was over. Thinking of Dr. Joseph made him think of ghost like Casper, Bloody Mary, and Danny Phantom. Finally, thinking of Danny Phantom reminded him of Spencer.

He wondered how he was doing. What is he doing? How is he feeling? How does _he_ celebrate Cobramas? Did he get anything this Cobramas? Regardless if Spencer _does_ get anything this Cobramas, none of those gifts were going to be from Baruch, and that made him unsettled. He got this sudden tinge of…something negative. He felt painfully desirous of being the person that gave Spencer a gift this Christmas instead of Spencer’s mom or dad or whoever it will be. He felt this extreme cupidity for that role, and didn’t enjoy Spencer’s parent’s advantage of having that and not him. Unconsciously, his face scowled while he imagined his cousin handing Spencer a gift that’s probably something stupid like a wooden carving of his face or something. But Spencer’s so nice and adorable, so he’s going to like it anyway, in fact enjoy it so much, and be happier than Baruch could ever manage to make him. He didn’t like that thought at all. That isn’t fair. _He_ makes Spencer happy, not his stupid parents. Before he knew it, he was calling to his mother, “Mom!”

“Yes, honey?” she said beside him while they’re in a limo together. They just got back from a mafia business arrangement, a story for another day.

Billy fixed his red tie, annoyed, and fixed his black blazer while sucking on a candy cane in the shape of a chewing cigar.  “I need to give Spencer a gift for Cobramas, see! We need to order him a waterslide to his house, pronto!”

His mother rolled her eyes, noticing that he’s naming national holidays after himself again. She fluffed her fluffy scarf and re wrapped it around her neck. “Baruch," She said in her southern accent, slowly getting out of character, "this is a Christmas present to a friend. It has to come from the heart.”

Baruch tips his head to the side and raises and eyebrow. His black brim hat dramatically covered his left eye in a way that it provided a black shadow, and it made him look older than he was, more intimidating, especially when the limo passed a street light. “The what, darlin'? The tart?”

“The heart.”

“The fart?”

“The _heart_." She showed him where his heart is with her gloved fingers over his chest. "You have to be thoughtful, thorough, _and_ considerate about what you’re going to give to someone. It has to be something he can use and cherish. For instance, a waterslide isn’t going to work because they do not live near water.”

Baruch realized this, and looked into the night sky for some inspiration. The moon was full, and bright, almost brighter than the sun. it was awfully beautiful, like big round bowl of milk Bruch could drink. He snapped his fingers with a smile. By this point, he managed to get out of character and back to his American self. “I got it. We’re going to get him the biggest pool on record, with built in waterslide _and_ diving board!” Who’s the best brother ever? Well he’s surely in this limo right now, that’s for sure.

No, it’s not the chauffer, you smart aleck.

“Does he know how to swim?”

Baruch spirits literally deflated once this came to mind. “Oh, right.” Then another idea came to his head. “Ok, check it. Big pool, slide, diving board, and, and, _paid personal swimming instructor_ , for one whole year!” Who’s the best brother? Not the chauffer, that’s for sure. We’ve explained this before. You’re so stubborn.

“Okay. Let’s say we solve all the possible crimps I can throw at you, but in the end, _does he even **like** to swim_?”

Oh yeah, there is that.

“You see Baruch, these are things you have to consider when you give a gift to someone. This takes a _lot_ of thought. You can’t just toss them something randomly or else it’s going to hide away in their closet never to be seen again.”

That can happen? Oh man, that’ll be terrible! But what can he give Spencer? A horror movie? But how many times can that loop before it gets old? A costume? But how many occasions can you use a thing like that, like once a year? Some food? But that’s temporary, so so temporary. What will last longer than 1 to 2 hours? What will he keep to his heart and cherish for years to come? What does Spencer like? What does Spencer not like? What does Spencer do? There are so many things he could give Spencer, but what will do the job just right? “This is hard!” he quoted she. He started freaking out realizing that he doesn’t have enough time to think this thoroughly. He has to get the best gift in 6 seconds and he doesn’t know how to start! “Oh man, how am I going to outshine my cousin? She’s going to give him the best gift ever and he’s going to be so happy because of her and not me ‘cause I gave him the _lamest_ gift ever if I even get him anything!”

His mother chuckled. “Are you jealous of Jane, son?”

Baruch held back an all-out laughter fest. Jealous? _Jealous_? The Cobra _jealous_ over a country bumpkin? “Pfft! Jealous? Of what? Her guardianship over Spencer? The fact that she gets to be around him 24/7 and doesn’t even appreciate it while I’m hundreds of miles away and more deserving and worthy? That she has a gift for him and I don’t and more likely than not it’ll be better than whatever I’ll get because she knows him like the back of her hand and she can make him more happy than anything I can do? Tsk, no. I have better things to get wrinkles over, like **WHAT’S GOING TO MAKE THAT STUPID GINGER CRY UNDER A ROCK IN PITIFUL SHAME AS A SWIM IN A RIVER OF HER TEARS TO ELYSIUM**!” the last part was said with literal fire in his eyes. We will not question why his corneas didn’t burn off.

His mother blinked at him and scotched her seat over. An inch. “Right…well, you always have my help. _Or_ we can call Spencer to see what he wants—”

“No! That’s what Jennifer will do. I need to be unpredictable. I need to be discrete. He thinks he’ll get nothing from me and BAM! The best present isn’t expected.” He evilly chuckled to himself.

 

* * *

 

He just CAN'T come up with anything! 

He worked in his studio deep in thought about what to give Spencer for Christmas. He could think of so many things to give to the twerp but there’s always a flaw in it. A costume is going to have rare occasions. A new TV is out of his league. He’s too young for a swimsuit model, and Baruch was displeased with that idea to begin with, drooling over that stupid shashank skank when Baruch could work it better than her anyway—there was nothing in his mental list that fits the job and it’s been bothering him all day. He can’t concentrate on anything because he’s so obsessed with this subject. He just _has_ to find out, man!

His manager took notice that his head wasn’t in the game right now. “What’s on your mind, kid? Time is money.”

He tapped the same key over and over again, looking into the sky in deep thought. After hitting a large set of keys, the combination made a horrible tone that matched his mood. “Ugh!” he exclaimed, “I got a bad vibes!”

The manger played on her phone while talking Baruch, multitasking, one of her many talents. “How? Talk to me.”

“I need to get a present to someone and I don’t know what to get. I want to it be _perfect_.”

“You’re Billy Joe Cobra, anything you give is perfect.” That was true. However, he felt…doubtful of that in this situation. He was unconfident…HE’S UNCONFIDENT! ORDER IS OUT OF BALANCE! THIS NEEDS TO BE THE BEST GIFT EVER! “How old is it?”

With his elbow on the side holding up his face, Baruch poked at chanced keys indifferently. “5 or whatever.”

“Give it one of your dolls or something.”

“No. This is special, this has to come from the…the…the cart? Yeah, the cart.”

“We’ll get shopping on it pronto. Who are you talking about anyway?”

“It’s my cousin’s son.”

“The one you visited?”

“Yeah.”

She rolled around on her mobile chair to the coffee machine on the counter. “What’s he going to care? He’ll be happy enough to get a box of crackers from _anyone_! I mean look at that dump. I’ll say it again, anything _you_ get will be perfect.”

“Yeah but…” He knows that. But it’s just… “I don’t know. I want this gift to _mean_ something.” He wants this gift to be something he thought long and hard about, not something pulled out the shelf willy nilly. “I mean, this isn’t just Billy Joe Cobra giving him a gift, it’s his awesome bro/cousin, Baruch, you know. There's a higher expectation.”

The manager rolled her eyes and groaned laughably. “Oh give me a break. The kid’s a 5 year old for crying out loud! He forgot you by now for sure.”

What is this woman talking about? No he hasn’t. “No he hasn’t. I gave him the time of his life. He’ll _never_ forget me.” Irony hits this poor lad so hard. “Besides, I’m a world famous pop star. Who forgets meeting a world famous pop star at _any_ age? You’d have to have, like, amnesia or something.” Just so hard.

“Oh really? You got into the business at what, 6? What’s your father’s name?”

What _is_ his father’s name?

“What’s your sister’s name?”

He had a sister?

“What’s your aunt’s name?”

He had an aunt? Which side?

“What’s your _cousin’s_ name?”

Ah-ha, he remembered her! She started with a J, he thinks. It was something like…ah-ha, “Madeline,” he answered with a smug face, “a well-respected mother of the Fenton family!”

Her mouth was a straight line.

“Look it’s not like _they’re_ famous. I am though, not to mention, I’m the best thing he’s ever seen. I’m an unforgettable character of love and affection, and if he ever forgets me, he’ll just remember based of thinking of something awesome in his life.”

“If the kid’s memory’s _half_ as good as yours he’ll forget you quicker than Sonic on ice.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m unforgettable. I left a _signature_ on that house. He’s not going to look at anything the same way again because all he’s going to think about is _me_ when he sees it.” But then is hit him that she’s _probably_ right. Spencer’s memory isn’t well developed yet. What if he _did_ forget him by now? All that time they shared, all those bromantic moments, kept only in the compartment of his brain and not Spencer’s. He tried his best to be an unforgettable mark on this world, a legend in the hearts of many, a familiar reference for generations to come, but that’s part of the job. If this boy, this specific boy, forgets him for even a second…for some reason, that leaves a horrible pain in the bottom of his stomach. The horrifying realization came to him that he _can_ return to that sorry excuse for a house and Spencer’s going to see him and wonder who that devilishly handsome man is.

He sat in his room in deep thought. He can’t see Spencer until a few months after the holidays. That’s more than enough time to forget a week spent together. What the heck is he going to do? He can’t let Spencer forget him. Fantasies of going back to the old country and being welcomed by the hug of a loved child was feeling more and more like a dream than an expectation. “Aw man, what am I going to give him?” He doesn’t know what to do! What is this awful feeling he has in his gut? If feels like something he feels when he has writers block, or when his mother doesn’t give him something he wants. He feels…he feels…not serene. Disappointingly unsuccessful. Another bad vibe he has to fix because of this boy.

Then he realized something. There’s a lot of different feelings and emotions he gets from this boy that no one else is able to get out of him. Well, they can get it out of him, but not so in chorus as Spencer can. It’s like when he’s near him, his whole world turns upside down and everything he once knew doesn’t mean anything. The first day they met was Baruch going through a rollercoaster of feelings from Spencer simply smiling or frowning. Just then he was experiencing the start of a grand awareness, a connection of the common romantic novel phrase, “I’ve never felt this way before with anyone but you”, a willingness to admit that whatever he’s feeling in his chest when this boy cries or smiles or laughs is something called—but his mother interrupted that thought, and it won’t come again for another few months.

“Baruch!” His mother called down stairs.

“ _Mom_! I’m having a third person thought shot!”

“The phone is for you! It’s your cousin!”

“I don’t want to talk to that gingerbread house! I have too much pride!”

His mother sighed by the phone. “It’s about Spencer! She wants you to do her a favor—”

“Spencer?” He was beside her in a flash and it was so sudden it made her jump and drop the phone for Baruch to catch and hold to his ear. We will not question how he got there so fast. “What’s the stich?”

“Hey cousin.” Said Madeline in her stupid country accent that doesn’t exist. “Uhm, big favor to ask you.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, Spencer doesn’t ask for a lot on Christmas, he’s actually pretty grateful for whatever we get him.” He can imagine why. “But this year…he does want something specific, and only you can get it.”

Haha, stupide ginger snap couldn’t handle the art of gift giving like Baruch can and now she’s on her knees crying over to his aid. Smugly, he asked, “What is it? A pool with waterslide and diving board with swimming mentor—?”

“It’s you. He wants you to come over for Christmas.”

Baruch’s eyes widened, and he found himself silent, loss of words. “He wants me to come over?”

Jane nods.

“That’s it?”

She nods again.

“Can you answer me please?”

“Oh, yes, that’s all he wants.”

“Woah.” His narcissism escaped him for a brief moment, and he was utterly shocked that someone out there wanted to see him personally so badly that it was their only Christmas wish. Alas… “I—I can’t. I’m busy. I have to write a few songs—”

“Then give him _something_ for Christmas. Anything. A letter is more than enough, just please. He doesn’t want anything else. It would mean the world to him if you came or just, did something.” in the background, there was a mumbling of words, a tone familiar to Baruch. “Spencer wants to talk to you.”

“Seriously? Put him on!”

After a small moment, a familiar voice came to Baruch ear, and gave him a warm feeling on his chest while making him unconsciously smile. “Baruch?”

“Little Dude! Hey! How’s it going?”

“Good.” _He sounds so cute, I can’t even <3—I mean, it’s nice to hear his voice._

“So, uh, I can’t come over right now. Sorry.”

“Mmhm.” He could see the sad puppy face on the other side of the phone and it was like a stab to the chest.

“But I can later!”

“How much later?”

“Uh…a few months,” he felt himself cringe.

“Oh.” Baruch cringed harder.

“B-but that’s not that far away if you think about it!”

“Okay.” He voice on the other line, monotone and without emotion, making the true feelings ten times more apparent, gave Baruch more grief than he can handle. He needed to do something to fix it.

“Is there anything else you want for Christmas? I can get it for you. Just say the word, and it’s yours. Anything you want.”

“Can I come over to your house?”

“Uh…not _now_ , but later in a few…years….”

“Oh.”

“I can get you anything else though! ANYTHING! Even a swimming pool with a water slide and a diving board.”

“No. That’s okay. I don’t want anything else.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

“No problem, senor.”

“Bye, Baruch.”

Not even a pass of conversation before they depart? Is he that sad? “Bye, Spencer. I’ll see you, okay?”

“Mmhmm.” The phone on the other side clicked off.

Baruch’s large tear filled eyes looked at the sky with a large U shaped frown on his face while he saw the picture of Spencer immediately falling into pool of his own tears. “I’m the worst person in the world.”

“Awoh, Baruch…” His mother said, not agreeing or disagreeing.

“I’m horrible and selfish, self-centered and inconsiderate.”

“Awoh…”

“Spencer is going to his room plotting different ways and reasons to hate this horrible soul known as Billy Joe Cobra, and I deserve it.” Before he could stop it, his lips started to quiver and tears streamed out his eyes like waterfalls followed by a large bawl. “I’M NEVER GOING TO GET SPENCER THE PERFECT GIFT!” falling knees first, he hits the floor and the rest of his body moved downward for his face to hit the ground. "I should just give up. Send him a dollar Christmas card. Or maybe a 25 cent candy cane from the corner store." He looked to the sky again, tears streaming down his face dramatically like a water avalanche. " ** _Anything else I'll give him will be worth just as much!_** " His face planted his face the floor again to sob loudly and dramatically like a Disney princess crying on her bed when her mother wouldn't let her go outside the tower to the ball.

His mother only sees her son cry when he’s frustrated or angry. This 5 year old is capable of getting many things out of her son. It scared her a little. “Aw, come on son." She kneeled to his crying side for emotional support, something she rarely does for her son. "That’s only a dent in the road. There’s still a chance.”

“No there isn’t! There’s no chance!" He then began to roll around on the floor of the atrium of his home like a dog, leaving a trail of tears as he rolls and still going on with his whine that was stated almost like it was one sentence. "Spencer’s going to hate me ’cause I couldn’t do this one little thing for him on _Christmas_ no less and he's going to forget all about me and subconsciously hate the handsome devil he's going to see again in the future because I'm so horrible and terrible that I'm going down on Santa's naughty list just for being alive because I'm so selfish I mean darn all the brat wanted for Christmas was me—!” Baruch gasped as his epiphany came to him. “All he wants for Christmas is me… **DUH**!" That's it! " _I’m_ the perfect gift!” I mean, how can he _not_ have thought of this before? Baruch is the best thing in the whole wide world. Of course Spencer wants _him_ for Christmas. And anything dealing with Baruch will suffice just fine. Genuine genius, where is his statue and Nobel peace prize? He’ll need a picture frame of his face, no, his body—naked under a bear skin rug in front of a fire place, the whole nine yards—autographed by himself, he’ll need a song by him on CD, he’ll need a autobiography of Baruch Cohen, he’ll need oh so many things. Where to begin? Baruch smirked when he knew where to begin and end, worth more than a thousand things of himself. “I’ll be upstairs, mom.”

“Got a plan?”

Baruch did a back flip onto his feet and marched up those steps with heaven’s speed. “Yup.”

"Need any assistance?"

"Nope. I can write by myself."

 

* * *

 

Spencer tapped the bells on the Christmas tree, the blue one that reminds him of Baruch. The bob reflected back to him his deepest desire, and he stared into the magical orb that told him what his thoughts were. One of the events on this orb gave him a soft brush on his cheek, some outside force softly compelling to his desire, and it made him giggle and blush. As his father approaches, the fantasy fades away to Spencer and his father. “Hey son.” He said merrily.

“Hi, daddy,” he said depressingly.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t get you want you wanted this Christmas, but we managed to get something just as good.” Hugh pulled out a box from his back and plopped it by Spencer. “This gift is from your first cousin once removed on your mother’s side.”

Spencer looked at the wrapped gift like it was a scientific phenomenon. The gift was a box with a note on top, hand written. He rarely gets mail, and when he does it’s not a gift but maybe a letter or something. Also, he didn’t know of any cousins or when or where they were removed from the family. “Who’s that?”

Hugh can never remember that darned boy’s name. Shame on him for not remembering the boy who saved his son from loneness, shame. “Hmm,” he thought looking into the sky for inspiration, “the name is on the tip of my tongue. What was it? Buh-Boo-Bah. Uhm, hmm, let’s see. He starts with a B, I know that. Uh, Baxter Dash, maybe?”

By that time, Jane chipped to drop some education on these boys. “It’s from Billy Joe Cobra, sweet heart.”

The very name gave a twinkle to Spencer’s eye. “The cereal mascot?” The gift suddenly turned into a treasure of gold in this little boy’s eyes. “It’s from Baruch!” Before he tore it open like a crazed maniac, he took the note from the top and read it with his 5 year intellect and help from his father.

 

> _Hey, Little Dude!  
>  I’m sorry I couldn’t make it this Christmas. It’s going to be a while before I get back to your house too. But guess what. I have a tots righteous plan. You’re going to be my ~~penpal~~ Spenpal! We can write letters back and forth off the yahoo and keep in touch. I might as well be there, right? I know, I’m a genius. And guess what else. I’m going to send you  my gift. It’s a specially made game with a theme of yours truly so you can think about me all day. I was going to send you a picture of myself, but then I thought, why have **just** a picture of me when you have a picture of me **you can play with**? Two birds with one rock and roll genius, I know. You’re the first one to play it so make it count. You’re first game counsel! About me! It sucks that I can’t see your happy face right now but you can send it to me through our ~~telepathic~~ telebropathic powers. Don’t forget your favorite cousin (not that you can).  
>  Finally, some words to ALWAYS have in mind:_ _No matter what you do, no matter what anyone tells you, always know_ _and believe in your heart in the fact that I am awesomer than your mother, forever and always. Never let anyone tell you different._   
>  _Yours truly, Baruch._
> 
> _P.S, if you beat the game before I get there, I’ll stay for a whole month!_
> 
>  

"Aw," Jane, cooed, "He looks so happy! I need to film this!" And she left and came back to do just that.    

He picked up the cube, this so called con's soul, in the box with a smile and pressed a random button. The screen turned bright with flashing blue and purple lights that had Baruch all over it. It was the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his short days. He pressed a button here, and another there, and another there, soon learning how to adapt to this new world. His objective was simple and clear, and he knew how to beat this game.

A whole month.

With Baruch.

If he beats this game, Baruch will stay with him for a whole month.

These thoughts were dangerous to the human boy’s mind, but he thought of them, and those thoughts will subconsciously stick to him for years to come without him noticing.

“Ok, son,” said Huge, “Time to open your other presents.”

He bluntly refused as he went in his first zone. “No!” He continued, with determination and reason.

He has to beat this game.

He will beat this game.

He will not put this down until he has beaten this game.

Good things will happen if Spencer plays and wins a game.

He must always win a game.

He will always win a game.

He will never rest at any game he plays until he has won it.

Nothing else is important.

Nothing else matters.

There is only here.

Now.

Later.

Forever

In this world of magic and wonder there is love.

There is life.

There is meaning.

There is purpose.

This here, now, later, forever is what life means.

This is where he will stay until he has accomplished all that is good—

Before he knew it, the world to which he has come accustomed to in 5 seconds was taken from him by a devil like figure. All his hopes and dreams for the future escaped from him with that bright screen, the screen of magic and wonder. He was…angry. Yes, infuriated, because this wasn’t fair. How dare this man? How dare he? He glared at his father, death and destruction clouding his mind, holding the cube of magic in the air as if to mock him on his height and lack of authority. Who does he think he is? The force is evil, he _is_ the bad man, the dark man. He must be demolished. He must have His Precious back from the dark man. “GIVE IT TO ME!” He got on his feet and leaped high in the air in an attempt to tackle his father and/or snatch his head off. "GIVE IT TO ME GIVE IT TO ME GIVE IT TO ME GIVE IT TO ME GIVE IT TO ME!"

 

* * *

 

_You don't want a lot for Christmas_   
_But there is one thing you ask_   
_not a collection of horror movies_   
_chainsaws, machetes, or ski mask_

_you just want me for your own_   
_More than I can ever know_   
_Find him under the tree_   
_All you want for Christmas is me_   
_Mmm baby!_

Baruch tapped his last key on the keyboard, feeling the warmth and joy of inspiration fill his chest. He sighed, smiling contently and looking outside the window in awe. It doesn’t snow a lot in Hollywood, but that doesn’t have to be a dent in how beautiful the city was on Christmas. The way this town decorates it, it’s like a little Christmas village of their own. This as well as other things, is what makes Christmas so worthwhile. He stared into the Christmas stars of the night, awaiting for Spencer’s message of joy through telebropathy. He knew this was a bunch of hoopla, yeah, but it’s nice to think about it. He closed his eyes, concentrated really hard, feeling Spencer’s mind connecting with his through hundreds of miles away as if a puzzle piece stretched its self, and received…anger. Lots of anger, frustration and thoughts of murder on loved ones….nah, that can’t be right. Happiness and joy to the world is better. Must have been a glitch.

Baruch sent back his message in the form of a smile. “Merry Cobramas, little bro.”

 

* * *

 

Spencer heard the soft spoken prayers of a merry Cobramas directed towards him pass his ears, which was weird, because he didn’t know what a Cobramas was.

Oh well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me and my horrible lyric revisions everyone, I tried to be a corny as possible.


	15. Spencer's First Horror Adventure Final

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baruch tries to catch Spencer in a house of silliness

Baruch opened his eyes, and stared at the beady black ones of the man eating ladybug. He could see his horrified face in the reflection of its irises. It screamed, opening his mouth wider than anything Baruch has physically seen, but knew it was wide enough to swallow him whole. He screamed with the creature, covering his face with his arms and bracing for the inevitable. After a while of waiting to die he realized that he was still alive after 9 whole seconds. His vowel based bellowing died down to something more of a vowel based question after he peeked through his noodle arms to see the creature doing nothing but look at this child nonchalantly. The ladybug looked at him some more, doing nothing to harm him, and it crawled away up the dirty wooden wall when it was done. Heart beating under his chest, Baruch sat up and looked at all around the room filled with crawling ladybugs moving—

One, more medium sized the average, jumped on his back and screeched it’s blood curdling cry that made Baruch spring on his feet and shiver in fear. After that it crawled down his back to the others, giving him a creepy tingling sensation. Baruch felt like his whole body was affected by ice. He gasped and shook like ants were in his pants as he looked at all the creepy crawlies going up and down the walls and floors, oddly not doing any ‘man-eatingish’ things for man-eating ladybugs—

One emerged from below and screech right in Baruch’s face, making him scream in response. Again. It crawled away indifferently for its next victim.

Was this all they got?

“Well,” said Dr. J, a former scientist Spencer and Baruch met within a few minutes telling them that the fate of the world lied in their hands, “this is anticlimactic.”

“They’re not doing anything except scaring the cheese bits out of m—AHHHH!” he screamed after another ladybug jump-scared him to his left.

It crawled away.

“You mean that’s all they _do_?” asked Spencer as he was being carried on the back of one of the ladybugs with dejected body language. His butt was on the wings of the thing, making it unable to fly unless it wanted to be very rude. “That’s so _lamb_.” Seeing Spencer after that short episode of panic and feelings of urgent death coming his way, and knowing Spencer was the reason for all those negative feelings made Baruch indignant than a mother having her cookies eaten without her permission. His bottom lip was emphasized and his eyebrows arched as he marched over to Spencer on the wooden floor that threatened to crack under each stomp, ready to wail on him with a thousand not nice words for children under 12—

“Baruch, what happened to Wendy?”

His anger practically shattered to bits towards the floor exposing the fear layer within. “Oh.” A flashback of Wendy’s counterattack on that copycat cobra ghost came to his view. “Her.”

“Where’s Wendy?”

“Uh.”

“You lost Wendy?”

“Uhm.”

“She did no harm to nobrody.” The more he spoke words of guilt, the more tears simmered in his eyes which was actually Baruch’s guilt coming into play and making Spencer speak words and do things in a hallucination when he was actually sitting there waiting for Baruch to answer him. “We _named_ her _together_. The symbrol for our brond and brotherhood is lost in the depts. of heck to fend for herself and when she’s just a BROBY, you brold and bruel inbrolent child who will be no brother of mine without a broral justibrocation!”

He didn’t know what he was going to say. He’ll feel a sense of weakness if he demonstrated his irresponsibility to someone who looks up to him so dearly. He didn’t want to lose that with Spencer. He wanted to be the coolest person on the block, the tom cat who lives in a fridge. He’ll lose his cred if he—

A ladybug screeched on his left ear. Before he could call her off to knock it off the door, he saw Wendy was on the head of the screamer roaring in unison. The Ladybug’s black head did a full 360 spin letting Wendy fall into Baruch’s hands. The Ladybug leisurely moved back into place while have a troll expression on his face. He doesn’t know where in blue blazes she came from, but he’s not complaining. “Right here, lil’ jabroni!” He said handing her to Spencer. “She was just, uh, playing hide and seek.”

Wendy took a small, judgmental glace at this clown holding her. She accepted the embrace of the smaller flesh doll and squawked when Spencer hugged too hard. “Wow, Wendy, I was scared you died. You worried me for days, girl!”

“Days?” Baruch blinked. “What do you mean days?”

“Yeah, days. You were sleeping for big time, like zombie napping for, like, 6 every!” To translate, Baruch was knocked out for a long time.

“What?” Baruch _knows_ he was knocked out because he became too awesome for his own body to handle and not because he fainted from shock, but it felt like he slept for a few _hours._ “How long was I out?”

DJ calculated in his head for a moment to conclude he was sleeping for “Approximately 76 hours,” said the doctor, “rounding to the nearest whole number.”

76?! “Whoa! That’s like…” He calculated in his head. “Uh, 4 and 3, carry the one—3 DAYS! What the heck happened?”

DJ thought back of all the head concussions this boy had to withstand while he was faint just to get this boy to the bed in the other room. He was grateful for the amount of time it did take for Mr. Cohen to be fully conscious or that the boy was conscious at all for DJ was not ready to admit to Spencer that the group was the reason his friend was, uh, not awake. “You fainted from a shocking event and your body needed time to adjust to normal bodily functions,” he lied. “Very common in teenagers.”

“Huh.”

Awkward silence.

“Whelp, I guess we should get going then.” Baruch did his usual routine of grabbing Spencer’s hand and dragging him along the floor. “Come on, little dude, we gots to get with the go-go.”

“But Baruch—”

“YOUNGER RELATIVE, WE’VE TALKED ABOUT THIS! Don’t you understand, little dude? The fate of the _world_ is at stack here. I’ve been gone for _3 days_. Riots are erupting in cities, governments are falling down in states, countries, _continents_ all around the world! Wars are emitting from galaxies upon galaxies, the American president must be ready to drop a _nuclear bomb_ on this place in the next 5 minutes! If no one knows I'm still alive, the whole WORLD will **EXPLODE**!”

“But I don’t want to go!” Spencer whined to closed ears. He glared at Baruch’s aggressive hand and took a large bite onto it, causing Baruch to shout a child-friendly, derogatory interjection and release Spencer from his clutches. Spencer took Baruch’s moment to brush off his wound as an opportunity to scurry away to a random door that had a screaming beast behind it. The beast didn’t scream this time, but sat down with his back turned to the door as Spencer opened and closed it. DJ stood there and watched it all happen.

“Catch him!” Baruch exclaimed pointing at the door.

The doctor looked and Baruch then at the door, suspiciously nervous. “I can’t,” he answered awkwardly, “I’m uh, too busy, on my, uh, _time machine_!” He phased through the wall mysteriously. “Yes, yes, got to work…and suchhhhhhh…”

Totally not creepy.

Grunting, Baruch chased after him swinging his arms back and forth like noodles. He stopped before opening the door, however, remembering what was behind it. He carefully placed his left ear on the sturdy block of wood and listened attentively for any sounds on the other side. What he heard was a conversation between two gentlemen, roughly in their twenties.

“So I’m behind this door right?” said one voice.

“Yeah,” said the other.

“And I hear someone yelling behind it. It was a voice I never heard of before, so I thought, ‘hey, let’s give this visitor a welcome’.”

“Mmhmm.”

“So he opens the door, I thought I gave a warm smile, calm rush over, one of my best greetings, and guess what he does.”

“What?”

“Slams the door, _right_ in my face.”

“ _Ooh_.”

“Yeah. But you know, I gave him the benefit of the doubt, maybe I came on him too fast, threatened him a little. This is a pretty creepy place, probably came at him while he’s in a bad mindset, so I try to open the door. This guy _locked me in_.”

“Oh my gosh, what?”

“Yeah. Who is this guy anyway?”

“I think I know who you’re talking about. The same thing happened to me just a few moments ago.”

“Are you serious? Kind handsome guy like you?”

“I’m sad to say it did, my friend.”

“Some people on this planet, man. Can’t be happy until the world burns.”

“Preach that, brother. Oh, you hear that?”

“What?”

“Someone’s behind the door.”

“Bet you it’s that guy again.”

Baruch felt kind of bad, so he opened the door to say he’s sorry.

** SCREAMS FROM THE CORE OF THE UNDERWORLD RINGED IN HIS EARS FOR WHAT FELT LIKE YEARS. **

Baruch slammed the door harder than Miles Upshur, shouting in fear, “AHH!”

“See that,” said the first voice. “Barley got a word through!”

“If I ever see a ruder guest in my lifetime, man, I don’t even know.”

Crud. Spencer’s missing, he’s giving out bad first impressions to stygian beasts, and he’s all alone in this dark and creepy room with man-eating lady bugs who don’t eat man. Nothing can go right with this guy these past few days.

And you know, this would have never happened if this place had Wi-Fi.

 

* * *

 

Baruch sat in the room frustrated out of his mind with a bunch of ladybugs crawling up and about the floorboards. He needed a minute to just chill and get his thoughts together, gather up the hope he once lost. He thought he was going to be the smart character in a horror film that got out the first chance he got, but no, he had to play ‘catch up’ with the little twerp just so he can have his little ‘horror adventure’. Doesn’t that kid understand _death_? Every time they’re in danger, he’s giggling like a school girl, like this is something cool. It also crossed his mind that Spencer makes it seem as if they aren’t in danger at all whenever they’re in danger. Then comes to show they aren’t in any real _danger,_ and that jump scare was just for show. Baruch knows Spencer has an over appreciation for horror movies, but what if…?

A ladybug was next to him suddenly, sitting quietly like a polite child in someone’s home. It screeched in Baruch’s ear and his jet black hair blew in the wind of its breath. “I don’t know,” Baruch replied. “Just chillin’ in an angry pot of chilly.” The ladybug screeched. “Because I want to go home, this place has no Wi-Fi, and my little brother won’t let us leave this joint. He just _refuses to leave_. It’s like he _wants to stay here_ or something.” That wasn’t italicized for emphasize or anything. Don’t even think of that as important, you silly critical reader you. The ladybug screeched. “I don’t know why. He’s mega normal with kinky interest. I don’t judge him.” The ladybug screeched. “I don’t want him to think that I think what he likes to do is weird and that he should stop. I don’t want to be like my mom.” The lady bug screeched a long monologue for extensive period of time, and Baruch assiduously listened to this ear-splitting horrific screech. In the end of it, he nods thoughtfully. “You mean to say caring for others takes more than him liking me, and it takes making sure he’s safe and sound, even if he hates me and never wants to see me again?” The ladybug screech. “I _guess_ I don’t want that to happen to Spencer.” Screeching. “No. I _know_ I don’t want that to happen to Spencer! He could hurt himself if he keeps this up and I got to stop him from doing something stupid! _I’m a mega normal selfless distant cousin, and I’m goanna prove it!_ That’s lota ladybug.” The ladybug screeched. “Aw, you flirt.”

Baruch opened the door behind him and was welcomed to the expected cry of the fears from down below. “Hey guys,” he said to the other side of the door with consideration in his voice. “I’m sorry for slamming the door in your guys’ faces. I was raised on a belief that charging towards me and roaring while you have a shadowy exterior and red beady eyes are signs of a hazard coming my way.”

“Oh.” They both said. “See, I was right.” Said one of them. “Well, welcome aboard. I’m **** and this is A****, my brother. I hope you liked your stay here so far.”

“Meh, it’s alright. The ladies here sort of bug me though.”

They pointed at each other with a grin and an extended “Aye!”

“Anyway, you see this kid run through here, ye high, white shirt, brown hair, _the cutest little squirt of mustard_?” That last part was said with him having one leg up, looking into the sky, having his hands held together near his smiling face that was in the shape of a V.

“Oh, sure. Just down the hall with everyone else.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Here, let us move out of your way.”

“Thanks dudes! Catch you later.” He moved past them feeling a sense of dread and nightmare, and yes he knows what he thought. He finally opened a door to the end of the hall and found himself shivering, maybe in fear maybe due to the cold, maybe both. All he knows that if he ever sees a bug ever again in his life it’ll be too soon.

 

* * *

 

Ghost.

That ridiculous inquiry came to his head first when he saw a bunch of floating objects zipping high and low, defying gravity, and moving by themselves from one place to another. This room was short with a few book cases to his left and right, filled with notebooks as well as published novels that have seen better days. There were also some toys on the floor, dolls and bouncy balls and Twist Her scattered either on the floor or in the air. The room, as well as everything else in this place, was made of old wood that could crack at any moment of time, but this room was splattered with black crusty liquid. He shook his head to make the thought of whatever that black stuff was leave. “Spence!” He screeched. “Where are you? Come on, dude, enough fooling around!”

A book stopped in place and floats towards Baruch, a bobby pin beside it. The bobby pin was pointed at Baruch’s hair and attacked it with a force. Baruch dodged repetitively until it wiggled in front of his face and attacked gentler, more targeted towards his hair. “Oh, you want me to _put it on_.” He realized.

It’s not enough that this sorry excuse for a lab coat is in the same room with him, but then he’s requested to put that object of dejection, a bobby pin with an _orange_ flower attached to it, on his luscious mane. Sometimes, he feels like he’s giving more than he receives around here. “No no, honey, I’m allergic to things from the Don’t Shop.” Fashion is so dead these days, ugh. He _has_ to become a fashion designer one day to even out the odds and bring fashioncation back to this idiotic society. I mean, heavens, orange _does not_ match this lab coat!

This _lab coat_ can’t even match _life_!

Suddenly, his head was kept in place under his will and the bobby pin was attached on to his hair against his will as well. It poked the skin within his hair when it jabbed in incorrectly. “Ow! Hey!” Before he could try to yank it off himself, Spencer rushed over to him in the cutest red dress he’s ever seen on a button made of sunshine. He could hold back his “aw” as he gazed into that snow flake of a cutie booty. Spencer jumped into Baruch’s arms and shivered in place. “Gotcha!” Baruch exclaimed, “What are you doing in a dress?”

“Baruch, help me!” Cried Spencer. “There’s this ghost girl that’s trying to put me in dresses and be her dolly!”

“Well she sure knows her stuff. I mean look at ya!” Baruch then spoke in baby language and tickled Spencer chin and pinched his cheeks. “Lo’kat chu an ya cewt face! Yur suh _key’at_ , yesh u r! Woo’s a tootie frutie weddle bay’be? _Woo’s a tootie frutie weddle bay’be_?”

Spencer was not amused.

Behind Baruch was a black shadow of despair and fear that howled the screams of a thousand dead souls and stared at them with a glare of a million mad men and women.

“Who’s a cutie pie marzipan? Is it you? Iz et u, #2 Spencil?”

“No,” Spencer whined.

The murky ghost realized it wasn’t getting any of Baruch’s attention, so it decided to move to his plane of sight. As she did that though, Baruch moved the other direction while teasing Spencer some more. Every tease and come back was a failed attempt to get Baruch’s point of view.

“Who’s a recreation of Shirley Temple?”

“Who’s Surely Timble?”

“Why, she’s the cutest Jay airplane that ever flew through the seven salty seas, yesh she iz!”

“The man eating ladybug isn’t cute!”

“Well don’t _you_ bring shame to your kind, huh you _adorabro kitty bitty witty_.”

The monster thing realized this is a waste of her time and went to go watch some flix on the net. Maybe they have _Mean Girls_ or something. Spencer saw her float away through the wall with a horrid expression. “No wait!”

“Wait for what?” He asked while seeing his shoes. “Or right! Who can forget about those two blue shoes, _adab’bado_.”Spencer used those shoes to kick Baruch right in the face. Grabbing his bruised nose, Baruch lets go of Spencer who scurries off to another door. Baruch’s voice sounded like a nerd after that happened. “Hey! You’re goanna pay for any damages on my money maker, you know, and I’m not talking about revengance! Wait! Get back here, you twerp!”

 

* * *

 

He walked in through the first door he saw his cousin go into, ready for anything. It lead to another hallway, following the pattern of this horrid house. “Spence, this is getting really old school totally quick! I don’t like having to stay places longer than I have to!” As he walked, the space became lighter, the room calmer, the sound violiner, and if Baruch didn’t know any better he’d say he was passing through the hall of heaven.

He heard the beautiful voice of a damsel ring in his ears.

 _Da da da da do do_ …

Baruch chuckled. She said ‘dodo’.

“Hello, young man.” Said the woman who held the bright eyes of a holy mother with no sins. She was mighty beautiful, with her adjectives that had good connotations.

Baruch looked at her with awe, her face reflected in his bowls for eyes. “Who are you?”

“I am Theresa, the good spirit of the mystic dimension, and I am here to cater to your every whim.” Her voice was like honey suckle. You can take that comparison and do what you want with it. I mean, it _sounds_ like her voice sounds okay.

Baruch thought about what she told her, wondering if his wildest dreams were coming true, but making sure it was real. “My every whim?”

She emphasized her female parts to Baruch. “ _You every whim_ …” she whispered softly close to his face.

Fo’ shizzle? Well, if she aien’t ly’n. “In that case, can I get a mirror?”

She blinked at Baruch’s sudden twist for she was not expecting that. Her hands reached to the back of her dress, and gives him a mirror, slightly confused.

He stares into it seductively and rubs his own face pleasantly. Oh man, he hadn’t seen this XXL Sexy Devil in EONS, _mm_! He _loves_ how good he looks. It a shame that he can’t physically date himself, but by Joe, if he could, he’d buy this pretty boy a thousand rings cause he earned it with that dosh garn smile of his, huh, that sexy devil. _Oh yeah…_ “I look _so_ good today, just like every day.” Oh yes he did. After drooling over himself for a few moments, he had his fill. It was time to go back and find Spencer maybe just one more peek. “Ah, I’m so gorgeous. I bet my mom kidnaped me from heaven, yes she did!” Alright time to go! Now Spencer probably went through that door over yonder just one more peek. “Ah! I’m so _hawt_!”

The good spirit thought her efforts was futile and floats away to do something else. Maybe she can watch a flix called  _Pitch Perfect_ somewhere on the net. This kid is weird.

 

* * *

 

Baruch opened the first door to his right and was introduced to a powerful gust of wind, instrumental music with numerous instruments playing at once, and a boy just as tall as he was floating down from above in a dramatic entrance, his while body the color of **** and he outfit just a no-no. “SO,” his voice boomed, “YOU READY FOR THE **RIDDLE MASTER**!”

“Riddles?” Baruch practically jumped out of his shoes and fell back into them. “YEHAW! I LOVE riddles! Hit me! I’m such a riddle wiz, I got accepted into Hogwarts.”

“Oh yeah, hot shot? How about a bet? You don’t answer this riddle right, _AND I EAT YOU LIKE THE LITTLE WORM YOU ARE_.” he said this with a bat’s face and yellows, demon like voice and hazardly close to Baruch’s face.

“Bring it, Brittney!”

“Well alright.” The boy backed away from, his backed turned to Baruch who was ready for anything. “What,” he began and stopped for effect, “has four legs in the morning…2 legs in the evening…and 3 at night?”

Baruch had a small montage of him thinking of the answer to this age old question that even a two-year-old knows, I mean, _come on_.

When the thinking montage was over, the bored riddle master who floated in the air with crisscrossed legs asked, “Dude, we’ve been here for two hours. You got an answer or not?”

Baruch finally had an answer. “Uh,” he started and paused for effect, “a backwards werewolf who turns into a human in the evening and injures his leg at night?”

With a wicked grin the boy belched, “ **WRONG**! The answer is man. You lose, city boy.” The large boy opened his mouth to eat him. “ _A DEAL’S A DEAL_.”

“What? How is it man?”

The riddle master stopped his charge and closed his mouth to normal size so he could answer his question. “Man, like human. As a baby, you crawl on four legs, as an adult, you walk on your two legs, and as an elder you walk on a stick making it three legs. The answer is man. You lose.” He charged at him with an opened mouth once again.

“But that doesn’t make any sense.” During Baruch’s tirade, the boy changed back to normal so he could listen to his argument. “I learned how to walk when I was 37 months old. Aren’t I still a baby by that time? And what if I got into an accident when I’m an adult and I’d have no legs to walk on at all? Or maybe I was _born_ with _one_ leg, or even _no_ legs. Things like that can happen, you know. And not _all_ old people need a crane to support themselves when they walk. They can die walking on two legs. The crane thing is just a stereotype. And a _crane_ does not define as a _leg_ but as a _crane,_ a stick like tool to support your back when you can’t walk by yourself. If he had a peg leg or a furniture leg, I’d see where you’re coming from but that wouldn’t let him have any more than 2 legs in those cases. And morning, noon, and night defines the placement of the sun, not the time line of someone’s life. It’d be cleverer to say something like ‘who walks on 4 legs in the earliest period, and 3 legs in the latest” or something like that. Your riddle’s lame.”

The riddle master felt like he was being stupdified, and he didn’t like that feeling one bit. “Oh yeah, Mr. Technical? You think you can do better, punk?”

“Watch me! The nickel asked the penny if he wanted to jump off the cliff with her. What did the penny say to the nickel?”

The riddle master thought about it and concluded nothing. “What?”

“’Us jumping off this cliff would make _no cents_!”

The riddle demon pondered that pun for a juncture until he realized the punchline. Sense sounds like cents, and then jumping off the cliff would both be ridiculous and a lack of currency.

That’s funny.

Funny enough to make him laugh.

He laughed and he laughed and he laughed so hard the floors shook. He voice echoed all over the vacant room and throughout the whole house, the whole country, the whole world, the whole universe!

Baruch, feeling like he’s wasting his time with this F-class riddle speaker walked out the room while the riddle master was still laughing.

 

* * *

 

 

“Spencer! I’m getting sick and tired of this scavenger hunt cow dung! Now if you don’t come to my feet this instant, I’ll…” Baruch tried to think of a bluff that will hurt Spencer horrendously. “I’ll stomp on your Ladybug costume! Now don’t make me go there, man! I don’t want to have to go there!”

Baruch found himself….back where he started, in the room filled with ladybugs and broken glass and lab tools.

Are you serious?

AUGH! HE’S NEVER GETTING OUT OF HERE!

Clutching his mane and pulling his hairs nearly out of their roots, suddenly, Baruch heard the tiny bark of a baby crocodile.

Crocodiles bark, don’t worry.

He looked to one of the heads of the walking ladybugs—

Random jumpscare.

He looked to one of the heads of the walking ladybugs and eventually found Wendy hopping over to him with a guitar in her teeth. His strings! He totally forgot about those! She came—

Random jumpscare.

She came to him, guitar in mouth and spitted it out when she approached him. Baruch received it with disgust and merriment. “Yikery hickers, Thanks, Wendy!” He wrapped the thing around his shoulder before he lifted Wendy to his level. She wrapped around his neck to serve as a scarf that’s surprisingly warm. Now this is more like it!

This lab coat is just atrocious. Why is he still wearing it? He took it off and hung it on his arm. “You seen Spencer, girl?” he asked scratching her nose.

At the name, her crocodile eyes sprung opened and she positioned herself to serve as a pointer for a specific place.

The container where all the ladybugs where.

“He’s in there, girl?” he said as he walked over ladybug after another. The glass was conveniently cut—

Random jumpscare.

“Can you not?”

Baruch continued inside over the lintel and into the room. To his left, somewhere he couldn’t see outside this room, there was a section of cameras. 3 columns, 5 rows. It showed different parts of the room Baruch had or had not been into. It showed rooms filled with monsters, rooms filled with floating objects, rooms filled with dancing underwear, and one room with…Spencer? Spencer was in a dark room, just like any other room, with a small broom on one side brushing a corner and a little white rag wiping the window on the other side of the room. Spencer was talking to thin air, like usual, and thin air responded with a cut through the air that Baruch can see. It was a gust of wind that can be demonstrated through Spencer’s hair, and the particles of dust that moved but the slightest. Spencer was talking with gusto and appeared to have a sense of annoyance in his stance. He was passionately yipping about to nothing, but after everything Baruch experience, he knew Spencer wasn’t talking to some imaginary friend. He was talking to _something_.

By then something strange happened. It started with Baruch’s wants to listen to the conversation, but that want birth from the want to protect Spencer, and from there, there was something, maybe it was him, maybe it was a voice of faith, or maybe it was his body telling him the room was cold, but something that told—no, _demanded_ that he puts that lab coat on right now. It wasn’t a voice, and it wasn’t an urge, but it was as if his body and mind was taken over by something of a paranormal essence and he knew while not knowing that he had to put on that jacket to see what the thing was that Spencer was talking to.

And so he did.

And what he saw was the man that started it all, Dr. J, talking to Spencer in an intense conversation.

It wasn’t a voice, more like a feeling in his finger tips that told him to push some buttons. He pushed one, then another, and another, not knowing what they’ll do but knowing they’ll do something good. He had full faith in this…whatever it was.

Which they did.

He could hear them now.

“I don’t want to go, Joe’s Smith,” you know who said that.

The doctor replied, “But you have to, _Monsieur_. It is for your own good.”

Fearfully, Spencer backed away slowly towards the wall. “No! You can’t make me!” But that was when he was wrong. Dr. Joseph snatched Spencer, who was crying desperately for help from someone.

“You’re coming with me and you’re going to like it!” The doctor zipped out the room at full speed through the doors of the very room, row 3 camera 2.

Baruch stared at the footage in disbelieve. He literally sat there and watched a man kidnap his little dude. “Spencer, no!” Oh man! What’s he going to do when he takes him there? What’ going to happen to the little bro. Aw man, he should’ve kept him more around, he should have kept a better eye on him, he should’ve never let a bite that’s the size of two anacondas and a kick of a baby kangaroo make him let him go—

A ladybug screeched in his ear, and it was right. Shoulda-woulda-couldas are for the weak and incompetent. Wills are for the strong. He needs to think about wills, what will happen, what will he do, and how he _will get Spencer out of this mad house if it’s the last thing he does_!

He looked at that ladybug with an idea in mind.

 

* * *

 

The wind blew in his hair, eyes, and cheeks, and the same went for Wendy as the Ladybug glides them into the quirky corridors of this horrid house. At first this ride was a horrific whirlwind, but eventually, Baruch found the fun in this and smiled to the best his pulled back cheeks could do. They zipped zapped and zoomed through the halls and pasted everything Baruch encountered today, like the spooky little girl who was playing cards with her other friends, the good spirit of the mystic dimension who was sweeping the floors as they rode passed her and lifted her dress, riddle master who was still laughing in his room, and even the two monster dudes who introduced themselves with their common greeting, a roar. Baruch shook off the chills they send whenever he passed by them.

There was a room at the end of this horror house the ladybug knew. It was where her family used to huddle in during the harsh cold winters to gather warmth from each other.

Those were good times before the incident.

The room down below was a lab, but not like any other lab, no no, it was a _lab_ , like on that Dexter’s Laboratory level. It was at the end of the hall, in the basement, down down _down_ in the underground house. It was cold as ice and dark as pitch until Baruch and the animal friends come in counter with light and warmth and noise. The room was lit by florescent bulbs. It spreads wide and far, a good mile or so, of labbing. It had everything, technology, beakers, marble flooring, and, most importantly, a poster of Steve Jobs.

Acquired ironically of course.

Baruch thought he had to withstand a lot of searching and growled at the length of this vast laboratory. But then he looked to his side yonder, and Spencer was on a table being a grouchy little troll while Dr. J gave him a scolding. Baruch rushed to the scene on his flying ladybug, and fell flat on his face with Wendy in a curled ball on the floor when the ladybug abruptly stopped. He played it off as if he meant to do that and stood up like a super hero with his hands on either side of his hips and his chest puffed out. _Why_ do _super heroes stand like this?_ Baruch took a moment to think about, _what are they trying to prove to others by standing like this?_ _All it’s doing for me is hurting my back like a mother!_ “Unhand my brother, ruffian!” The ladybug did his screen time, so he left the laboratory to watch chick flix on the net with the other ladies upstairs.

They’re going to see _Pitch Perfect_ and _Mean Girls_!

As Spencer shouts to Baruch like a damsel in distress, the Doctor turned his attention to the boy standing behind him in a ridiculous pose. “Ah, Mr. Cohen, just the man I wanted to see.”

“I bet I was,” dramatically pointing at the doctor, he continued saying, “ _so you can use my little brother against me to get millions of millions of dollars out of me, right_?”

The doctor blinked at Baruch and twisted his lips as he scanned the room for anything besides Baruch. “Wha-what?...No. I just wanted to talk—”

“ _About how you’re going to do mad evil scientistisy stuff on me and little dude! I bet this whole set up’s a trap to put me down and do your evil experiments on me!_ ”

“What tra—stop _talking nonsense_.There’s something I’ve—we’ve all been meaning to talk about—”

Then, Baruch pulled out a white and green thermos from his back pocket, opened the lid, and pointed the opening towards the doctor who stared at Baruch confused. “HA!”

The doctor twitched his left eye and frowned at him. “What are you _doing_?”

Baruch felt a little embarrassed. That plan worked out better in his head. Maybe it would’ve worked if Spencer did it. “Nothing….”

“Stop it,” the doctor flicked the thermos out of Baruch’s hands. “Listen to me—”

And from the center of nowhere appeared the riddle master with a negative attitude towards Baruch. He floats in front of DJ, dramatically pointing at Baruch and grinding his teeth. “Hey, you! I just remembered the difference between a joke and a riddle.” His body morphed into a gray creature with black like features and a snake like tongue that snapped at Baruch. “ _YOU CHEATED!”_

Baruch knew it! This _was_ a trap! Well no matter. He could easily defeat this guy with a single kick in the buns.

Then he remembered that he doesn’t have his magical shoes from the movie he played “Magical Power Shoes”.

So basically he’s powerless.

So he ran.

“Don’t forget—!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Baruch called back to Spencer while picking up Wendy so she can run till their feet turn green with him. “AAH!”

Baruch ran around lab, jumping over obstacles and destroying things that were in his way, like beaker cases filled with beakers filled with liquids, and random chairs that cause a collection of accidents following one after another that destroyed the lab in some creative, improbable domino effect related event. The monstrous riddle master charged at the running man with a goal to devour his soul like a noodle. The doctor watched in horror as his unlife’s work was being destroyed through various explosions and falling towers that were happen at the same time. It’s incredible what damage two pubescent boys can do at once. “No!” He screamed, “My [ **Insert Complexly Named Machinery** ]! Not my [ **Insert Complexly Named Machinery II** ]! Good heavens, _anything_ but my [ **Insert Complexly Named Machinery III** ]! You boys stop this at once!”

“What is going on down here?” said a girl the color of **** who phased through the ceiling. “I swear I you leave boys alone for two minutes.” She took a moment to realize the ruckus the boys were causing in the lab and grinned from ear to ear. “Are they doing what I think they’re doing?”

“NO THEY’RE NOT!”

“Guys! Come on down, they’re doing the _Destroy the Lab Dance_!”

From then, the sounds of an electric piano played in the distance, and each key that was pressed was the appearance of a random new ghost, somewhere in the lab. When the intro was played through, everyone raised their hands into the sky and howled at the ceiling like the call of wild wolfs. “EVERYBODY DO THE DLD! WOO!” The ghost dispersed in the lab breaking everything they see in sight as a catchy nineties beat played in the background. The doctor pulled his cheeks down, showing his eyes, teeth, and skull, and groaned in disbelieve as things were tossed two and fro carelessly, work and months of hard work being destroyed. Spencer joined in on the DLD! He loved the DLD, especially their catchy jingle!

 _You break a thing to your left  
_ _You smash a thing to your right  
_ _Pick a thing off the ground  
_ _And twist it tight  
T_ _oss it down like a football  
_ _And kick it in the air  
S_ _hake a beaker full of liquid like you just don’t care!  
_ _Throw it somewhere random_  
 _Do it harder than a dream_  
 _Now everybody RUN AND SCREAM_

“NO! Stop! EVERYBODY STOP!” Explosions and breakages where _everywhere. Everyone kept breaking his stuff._ He grunted and holding his head in place. _Stay calm…stay calm…think of doves fluttering their wings in the sunlight and harps played by the most beautiful women_ —at the que to smash a thing to your right, someone pressed a button to one of the machineries, which was Dr. Joseph’s unstable time machine, the thing he cannot move on without completing. It was a small capsule, the color of navy blue and royal gray, and beside it was a red button that connects to it, activating it on command. When pressed, it either pulls something out of some other time into this time or something from this time into some other time. Luckily, it pulled out something from some other time into this one, but it was a gigantic monster made out of garage tools and automobiles and generally metal. It destroyed everything along with all the other ghost, and ventured into the deep metal jungle of Dr. J’s old work.

Wow. That was an event.

Dr. J’s mouth fizzed up and his shoulders reached the top of his head. The steam in his head was so powerful it came out of his ears (that’s how anatomy works, don’t worry) and his anger was so grand that it put a crack in his glasses. “ **EVERYONE STOP THIS GOBBLEDYGOOKING JARGON**!”

Everyone in in the lab, in the house, in the area, froze in place. The ladies upstairs paused _Mean Girls_ , Baruch and the riddle master stopped at their pulling each other’s hair and noses and jackets, and the other ghost who are down here because they can stopped doing the DLD and destroying things in the lab since everyone was doing it, except for that one guy who made it worse by putting something down so he can pretend he didn’t touch anything. The doctor took a deep breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth and floats towards Baruch in the calmest, most mature way he could possibly do so, ignoring the comedy in the position he was in with the riddle master. “****, get off him, please.”

And so the riddle master did, leaving Baruch to stand in a normal position.

“Now that everyone is calm and collected, we _all_ have something to tell you, Mr. Cohen—”

“That you’re keeping me hostage for American ransom—”

“STOP!” He heaved, taking a moment to calm himself down. “Just stop. And listen. All I ask is for a second of your time to just _listen_. Now—”

“A second passed.”

The doctor did his best to contain his R-rated rant.

“Okay, I’ll stop.”

“Now, I think I speak for everyone when I say that this was a bad plan to begin with.”

“What plan?”

“We’re sorry Mr. Cohen,” came in the good spirit of the mystic dimension beside the doctor, “We all lied to you. I’m not a woman of a mystic dimension or anything like that, but the ghost of a widowed mother of two kids. And Dr. Joseph is the ghost of a Chemistry—”

“Nope,” said the doctor, “I was honest.”

“Oh,” she continued. “Then, yeah. And the riddle master isn’t a riddle master of any sort but the ghost of a boy who died from an illness. Everyone’s not who they said they were when you came here. We’re all ghost haunting under one roof.”

“Why’d you lie to me?” Baruch asked.

“This time isn’t the first that I, as well as everyone else, knew of Spencer. Spencer’s been a part of this family for as long as he can remember. We watched him grow and all we can see is a nice young boy being bullied. He talks to us in front of people and no one can see us, so it’s like he’s talking to nothing. He was always so sad. Then you came into the picture, and he was so happy beyond anything we’ve ever seen before! He wanted to run away from home with you so you both can stay here and be…” she held back some information, “…very close friends.” A truthful lie. “The plan was to trick you into staying here and having horror adventures with Spencer for as long as we can, but it looks like it couldn’t last very long. We’re all really sorry for lying to you Mr. Cohen, aren’t we, Spencer?”

Spencer nods shamefully. “Yes…”

“So, that ladybug that tried to eat us back at the pond—?”

“All part of the plan. He’d chase you down until you feel like you can’t run anymore and then we pick you up from there.”

“Spencer flying into the house to begin with?”

“All part of the plan. You didn’t want to go in, so we gave you a reason to.”

“The dude that chased me down the halls and tried to copy me?”

“All part of the plan. He’d bring you deeper inside the house and then we lock you in. He’s name’s **** by the way.” **** said hi in the distance.

“The monsters that roar at me whenever I open a door?”

“Plan. Keeps you from going where we don’t want you to go.”

“The girl that tried to put Spencer in a dress?”

“Plan. Something to scare you.”

“Me running in an endless circle?”

“Plan. We made you open the doors we wanted you to open.”

“Spencer breaking the glass case filled the ladybugs?”

“Can’t say _that_ was part of the plan. Why _did_ you do that, Spencer?”

“One of the ladybugs said he had to go the bathroom,” Spencer answered sheepishly.

“I hope you understand. We just wanted to see Spencer happy.”

Baruch was angry at first. He thought he can trust this little dude, and feel comfortable around him, but he was trying to befriend a kid who was lying to him this whole time. But then, it subsided from Spencer’s long face of embarrassment and shame. Baruch empathized with the little guy, thinking of what it felt like to be treated like a weirdo, not having a chance to just be yourself, being judged for being different, and wanting to get away from it all, even for a moment. He knew that feeling all too well. He’d dare say that’s his life in a nutshell. He sat with Spencer on the floor, but Spencer couldn’t look Baruch in the eye. “Little dude,” he began.

Spencer scratched the floor with the tip of his shoes. “Mm-hm?”

“That wasn’t nice of you to lie to me like that.”

“Mm-mm.”

“We’re bros and we don’t keep secrets and tell lies to each other, okay? That’s not cool, is it?”

“I’m sorry…”

“I know you are. And I know you’re not going to do it again, right?”

Spencer shook his head.

“Look at me, little dude.”

Spencer looked into his eyes and said, “I won’t lie to you again. I _prom_ _is_.”

Baruch smiled. “Good.”

“Baruch, I don’t want to go home. Everyone’s mean to me.”

“Well, that’s just life sometimes. You’re going to meet some people, or a lot of people, that’s going to be mean to you for the smallest things, like your clothes, or your hair, or you talking to thin air,” that rhymes. “It’ll happen. It happens to everyone. It happens to _me_ all the time.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I get a _ton_ of haters, like you wouldn’t _believe_! And they say a lot of hurtful things to me all the time, almost every day.”

“What do you do?”

“I ignore them. I have better things to do than waste my time on people that don’t like me, like realizing how awesome I am.” He took a moment to realize that he’s a _really_ awesome person. “Tell me, would you rather think about how much of a Danny Phantom rip off everyone thinks you are or how cool the man eating lady bug smashed that building!”

“MAN EATING LADYBUG!”

“So think about that. Hurtful things will always come your way, but you can always channel out the bad voices and have good ones. They can make fun of you all they want! You know who you are, right?”

“I’M A MAN EATING LADYBUG!”

“ _Yes you are, dude_!” he scooped him up and gave the giggling Spencer a big old fat hug. “You’re awesome…not as much as me though.”

Spencer couldn’t agree more.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“ _Well aein’t this just a cute day_ ,” the doctor mostly yelled, sarcastically since his lab is nearly in shambles because of all this tomfoolery and trickery. “ _I’m glad we worked it all out_!”


	16. The Brotherly Confession Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ugh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DID IT, GUYS!  
> Now to finish that binking Halloween special

“So let me get this straight.” Said Baruch's mother as she squeezed the bridge of her nose. “You take your cousin and your guitar, jump out a 2 story high window, take a stroll where ever the winds takes you, pick up an alligator you found by a pond and for some reason go missing for almost half a month to some abandoned cabin flourishing with rich plant life somewhere in this desert wasteland because of a _giant ladybug_ and a  _ghost_?”

Baruch looked at the ceiling of the airplane, grey compartments carrying luggage, remembering past events. Then he nodded at his mom. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

The room was so silent you can hear a pin drop.

"Grounded."

* * *

* * *

Baruch groaned as he stared at the ceiling of his boring blue room, in his boring house with his boring mom. Why did she have to be such a _Vlad_? He was 14 years old, practically an adult. He thought he was _more_ than capable of taking care of himself and another human being of another generation for a tad bit. Besides, he was gone for, like, 2 weeks. That is _not_ that big of a deal. But his mother had to be so overly dramatic and ground the Billy Joe of the Cobras because he did the civil act of taking a child outside to get some vitamin D and burn some calories. If taking a child out without his parents’ permission and never coming back for half a month for the sake of unpredictable adventure is wrong, then he doesn't want to be right!

Suddenly a hurtful memory hit him like a bat when he thought back to how he got grounded.

* * *

* * *

Baruch's face was forced to the right, and his left cheek stung like thousands of pins poking it forcefully at the same time. He was too surprised to be angry at Jane; he got kicked in the face and dabbed in the face, but he never got a slap before. As Baruch placed a hand on his cheek and tried to return to reality, Jane charged towards Spencer and scooped him up in her arms. She took the long awaited relieved breath building up for too long for a mother to handle. She glared at Baruch that had a mixture of venom and fear as if she's seeing a cockroach. “Do _not_ come near my son! EVER!” She marched towards her home with Spencer on her torso. Head the same direction of his mother's back, Spencer looked at Baruch with a face.

The look on Spencer's face as she left will forever be engraved into Baruch's mind; there was something about it that made him feel concerned for Spencer's safety and well being, something final. Is Spencer in trouble? What'll happen to him? He didn't know how to explain it, but the shoulda/woulda/coulda's where hitting him hard as he realized that whatever's going to happen to Spencer was because Baruch felt like taking him along outside. _What is this feeling?_ He thought, _I feel horrible, but I don't know what this is_. _Stop making that face! I'm sorry! What am I sorry for?_

As much as he wanted to think about that, his mother came in front of him and began her monologue about how worried she was.

* * *

* * *

 

He didn't get a chance to say goodbye either.

On a regular situation like turning the outdoor pool to jello and having a water park in doors, he gets away with being grounded with the help of his manger, convincing his mom that he was just a boy doing boy things and we should let him have his fun. Now that he was gone for over 2 weeks, when he came back, his manger was furious at him and was more than happy to teach him a lesson on making a disappearing act and worrying everyone sick. This was even posted on every social media related information provider they can think of “ **BILLY JOE COBRA, GROUNDED AFTER DISAPPEARING IN HIS HOME COUNTRY** ” said an article on his phone. Then it went on and on about how he was abducted by aliens and brainwashed to serve for the mighty lord of planet Goggin to do balderdash deeds like kidnap his distant cousin to sacrifice him for a married ritual in Sweden. “Ah, classic media.”

He took off one of his shoes and threw it to the ground.

Then his other shoe.

Then he threw a lamp to the floor.

“BARUCH J** COHEN, STOP MAKING NOISE UP THERE OR YOU'LL BE GROUNDED FOR _3_ MONTHS!”

He pushed his dresser to the floor.

“YOU WANT TO MAKE IT _6_?!”

Baruch moaned. “This is Ridonkey Kong Bonkerlus!”

He hates being grounded.

He hates this awful feeling in his throat when thinking about that look on Spencer's face.

He groaned again.

“I hate everything….”

He hated this situation, he hated his room, his hated this wonderful sunny day that was so gorgeous if you can look at the sun right now it'd be smiling, and he hated this article written by Hype Erbol-Lee from O.A Imagine Nation Networks. All he writes his hyperbole’s and conclusions drawn from his over active imagination.

He was a very bored boy.

It was then he admitted to himself that he cannot function in life without a whimsical, improbable conflict.

Then he came up with an idea.

* * *

* * *

 

“Good luck with your travels, young friends.”

Baruch held Spencer's hand as they looked back at the house they once were in before all this started. It was as broken and run down as they remembered. Nothing but drought covered their lands and vultures surrounded the area waiting for cookies or dead flesh. Good times. “Thanks for giving us a ride here, DJ.”

“ _Pas de probleme_ , more than happy to. You have caused more than enough havoc in my home as we speak.”

Baruch coughed.

“I hear that this is your last day hear, _monsieur_ Cohen.”

“It is?” Both boys said in unison.

“How do you know?”

“I heard it from your mother as she was talking to her niece about how upset she was that her only son was missing and could never return for all she knew. 'We were supposed to leave today!' she cried and cried.”

Baruch had complete lack of interest or empathy, but concern for what his mother said. He knew he was staying here for a week and was gone much longer than that, but he figured he will make up for his absence by staying here for the 6 days he lost.

Spencer grabbed his face and bawled, “No, that's a tissue! I don't want you to leave!”

“I don't want to leave either. This place is a perfect start for my new show coming out,  _Pimp My Country_.”

Spencer grabbed Baruch's leg with eyes filled with waterfall versioned tears, stretching his cousin's name in a shout. “BAAARUUUUUUUUUCH! We won't see each other again for KEEEEEEEEEEOOOOONNS!” Spencer clawed at Baruch clothing as he dragged his body down Baruch's leg. “IT'S Not faaaaaaaaair…..”

Then Baruch realized something after Spencer said that.

He really is an _**important**_ man.

“I know it sucks to see me go, little dude,” sparkles appeared around Baruch’s face for some reason, and while this concerned Baruch, he tried to make it seem like he made them appear by themselves and hoped they went away on their own, “but my greatness is needed elsewhere.”

Spencer stared up at his cousin, looking at how cool he is. _He’s so cool_ …. “I hope I get to be as great as you one day, big bro.”

Baruch chuckled. “Oh, Spendle, don’t we all. But we never do, do we?”

“You two seem to share a strong bond,” Dr. J said dryly, mostly towards Baruch. “I would hate for you to never to see each other after a long while.”

“Would you now?”

He could honestly care less if that darned soul got in a car accident and died, but, oh, Spencer and his puppy brown eyes were his kryptonite. “I have a solution to your problems, if applied to you.”

“What?” Said both boys.

Dr. J went in his pocket and handed out to Spencer a Jar. “A plushy buddy.”

“Plush bush?” Grabbing a jar, Spencer pressed it on his face making his face was completely covered by it. Spencer voice was muffled by the jar. “What a blushy dubby?”

“A ' _plushy buddy_ ' is something I created while experimenting with my ectoplasm. It's your _best friend_ in a jar.” The phrase “best friend” felt like acid on his tongue. “Simply open it and you've unleashed the boy you've been so found of for the past few weeks he's had his _**pleasant**_ stay here.” Dr. J took a deep breath.

Spencer held it in the sky like it was a prize from the Legend of Zelda. “Yay!”

“This way, anytime you miss Baruch, he'll always be right there with you. In a jar...” Dr. J evilly grinned thinking of Baruch being trapped in a jar. “I have one for you too, Baruch,” his smile was wiped away from the sight of this cretin, “any time you miss Spencer.” He opened the lid of Baruch's jar and gestured it to him. “But first, I need you guys to give me a sample of your skin cells. Just a dip of a finger should do it.”

Baruch shook his head, “Oh heavens no, you can't afford that.”

Dr. J's left hand which held Baruch's jar vibrated. “Come on, _Monsieur Cohen_ , don't you want Spencer to have a part of you while you're gone?”

“Well sure, and he can buy it off Bill-Ebay with his parents permission.”

Baruch's jar cracked from DJ's grip.

Suddenly Baruch's hand was compressed by another's and he looked down on his hand to see Spencer look up at him with big bowls for eyes that were filled with the whole galaxy. Baruch was last in those eyes, feeling a pain in his chest that both tortured and pleasured him until the urge unleashed itself from his mouth. “Awwwwwwwwwwww,” he cooed. _So THAT'S what that was_.

Baruch's been noticing that the different levels of pain and fluff in his chest were actually 'concealed sounds'. He called them this because most times they are not actual words. For instance, a pain on his chest that might come from Spencer hurting himself, perhaps, the noise concealed might come out “Aanah!” Or maybe Spencer does something silly but extraordinarily cute, like that time Spencer wore a dress, the first he realized what these pains were, when opening his mouth and acting on the urges of his vocal cords, he found his inner female screaming oddly not out of fear but some twisted form of happiness Baruch didn't understand at the time. It was weird what this boy could get out of Baruch.

“Can I have your skin sample, Big Bro?”

He sucked his teeth, “Ahow, I can't say no to _those_ eyes. One Brodacious skin sample coming right up, for the little broat goat.” He poked his finger in the cold muck that clung to his skin, then pulled out with some effort and a feel of disgust. “Yuck! It feels like the epitome of your jacket, Dr. J.”

 _Woosaah…._ “You too Spencer,” said Dr. J while Spencer happily cooperated. The jar glowed a bright blue and vibrated at the touch and both boys stared in awe.

“Now remember, _garcon_ s _,_ in these jars are somewhat live beings of yourselfs. Which means no shaking, no breaking, no agitating, keep this at room temperature, what have you. Treat these jars as if there is a live being inside that needs to be taken in the best care in your nurturing hands.”

* * *

* * *

 

Baruch finished remembering Dr. Joseph's request as he repeatedly banged his jar on his wall. He wondered how come he could still see the ecto plasm even though he left Dr. J's sorry excuse for a piece of cloth back at the old country. He wondered if it was because he knew it was there or something, but then remembered that regardless of who he knew was there or not, the ghost can disappear before his eyes if he removed anything of theirs from his being. What was making the ectoplasm so special?

“BARUCH YOU BANG THAT WALL ONE MORE TIME AND I'M GONNA BANG _YOU_!”

Baruch sucked his teeth. While so, the jar in his hand vibrated and made a sound like a wild badger. _One agitated Spencer coming right up_ , he thought with a vile grin. Opening the jar hastily, Baruch was astounded by the force that erupted from the jar as the ecto plasm gushed out dramatically and _splats_ on the floor. The liquidish muck condensed itself into a small hump at the center of the whole blue mess until it was around the Spencer's height. Then it slowly morphed with human like features, starting with the basics—arms, legs, and head—and moving on to details—hairs, nose, toes—until a full grown, little, blue Spencer with in his room with the stance of a troll. He had on no shoes, but he did have on overalls, and for some reason Baruch felt the corners of his lips tingle until he stopped resisting the urge to smile. He kept his mouth close, making his concealed squeal come out through his lips as, “Mmmmmmmmmmmmm~mmm.”

Eventually he covered his face in order to block out more of the squeal trying to escape while hiding his face on his bed. With his eyes closed and covered with hands and mattress, all he could see was darkness, but what was eventually painted on his dark fantasy canvas was the happy-go-lucky Spencer in his overalls milking a cow like a cutie country bummy kindle, then turning around to see his big bro, completely oblivious that he was there, then giving an adorable smile that grows flowers on the ground within a 2 inch radius as he waves enthusiastically and exclaims, “Hi, Baruch!” He would hop off his stool and prance all the way over to Baruch, giggling and leaving flowers behind his shoeless trail, about to give Baruch a big old fat hug like the sweetie pie he is.

At that moment, Baruch wanted nothing more than to squeeze the hissing twerp until his adorable head pops off. “You're sucha tootie fruitie cutie bootie widdle bay-beh!” Baruch 'awed' as he opened his welcoming arms to him. “Bring her in you Tiny Box Timmy Filled with biscuits—”

The Spencer clone charged at Baruch, mouth wide open with horrendous sharp teeth inside.

Baruch didn't have time to scream.

 

* * *

 

 

Weeks have passed since Spencer took The Test and the day in which we find our two bros was actually the last day of school. When the bell rang for school to be let out, havoc let loose. Children surfboarded out the doors on water that came from toilets with pipes that exploded from an human made pressure. Others back flipped out the windows and landed on their feet then did somersaults to the parking lot once they landed. Teachers rode out the doors on unicycles and skateboards happy as a dream now that they were finally out of this boring horrible job. Rich children rode on their jet packs out of the place and flew to the horizon cheering and chanting “SCHOOL'S OUT!” while the dance and chorus club pranced out the building from different exits while preforming the 3 month planned act to make a reference to High School Musical.

Spencer stood at the door, looking at everyone doing something whimsical as they exit, and feeling jealous. With big eyes, he dreamily peered at the big white poster he held in his hand filled with horribly drawn doodles, but not just any doodles. These doodles in collection formed the perfect “Final Exit for School” routine. On a broom stick, the figures circumscribed the school until they reached the very top. Then the figures threw candy in all colors of the rainbow onto the students and they would look happy and joyful. Then the figure on the broom stick's hair will go wild and crazy from ecto plasm and they would ride towards the Billy Joe Cobra mansion while holding a rainbow flag and playing the musical theme for pop tart kitty in the distance.

Spencer felt a tear stream down his face as he bit a gumdrop of candy from his book bag and watched the perfect dream die.

“Spence!” said concerned Rajeev as he rides an elephant with his younger sister Shanilla. “Yo, what's up home slice? What's your dramatic exit?”

Spencer sniffed. “Walking outside the door on two legs.” I mean, that's original right? Everyone else is doing something cool and creative, but _no one's_ going to see it coming if he walks out like a normal person. Ooh, maybe, to be more original, instead of 2 legs… _one_ leg.

“Dude, it's the last day'a _school_. You get _jumped_ like that.”

Yeah he's right. “Can I ride your dramatic exit with you guys?”

“Sure, pal. Hop on.”

Spencer jumped, and then realized his cheat isn't here with him. Sighing, he climbed the fabric made of pure Chinese silk and stitched with diamonds from the Indian niles.

“Hey, careful with that! Our mom's gonna get a cow if you break it!” Taking out his whip, Rajeev cracked it on the Elephant's skin, "Hiya!" The elephant rose on his hind legs and ran to the streets of Hollywood.

Shanilla took a moment to appreciate Spencer's arms around her as she asked, "What happened to Billy? Didn't you guys plan one a few months ago?"

"Yeah, but I haven't seen Billy since a few nights ago. I think he's avoiding me again."

Rajeev groaned at their drama. _"Again?_ What's wrong this time? Did you borrow one of his special perfumes again?"

Suddenly, a random flashback of Billy'd closeness from a few nights ago filmed over his eyes and he lost control of his facial expression.

"What's up with your face dude? You look like you went into the girls bathroom."

Spencer cleared his throat. "Uh, I don't know. Maybe he's up to a thing."

"I just hope he doesn't pull a 'break all my stuff so no one can see me' thing again." Shanilla pulled down her fedora from Billy. "Who knows how many phases he went through before we run out?"

"That reminds me, when am I goanna get a BJC Gear?"

Shanilla and Spencer ignored that question.

"I miss Billy." He missed the old days, back when they were ignorant of the history between them back in Spencer's forgotten years. He missed doing something stupid and being up to know good. He hasn't made a single script in over 8 weeks. He hasn't felt like he's been doing anything joyful lately and it felt like it was because Billy's gone. "I'm really sad."

His friends widened their eyes. It was rare for their friend to express his feelings in a sentence. They usually use context clues and common sense to deduct what Spencer felt at the moment. The mood changed when those 3 words were uttered and the siblings wished they can do something to make him feel okay again.

"Billy probably needs some alone time." Shanilla remembered what Billy disclosed to her a few days ago and how that was bothering him a lot. "He has his best interest at heart, you know."

Her brother followed, "Yeah. Billy will be back. You're two halves of the same blanket."

Energy depleted, Spencer leaned on Shanilla's back and sighed.

Her wildest dreams were coming true at that moment and she could never enjoy it.

 

* * *

 

* * *

 

“Thanks for dropping me off guys.” Spencer hopped off the elephant by sliding down the curtain like material decorating the elephant's side.

“No problem, bruh,” said Rajeev.

Riding away to the horizon with Rajeev, Shanilla made sure to cry out, “Happy last day of school, Spencer,” making sure to wave before her screen time was over.

Spencer looked at the empty house. His parents and sister started coming back after a few weeks, right before people started coming up to him beaten and battered and apologizing for no apparent reason. Today they were out for Jessica's 25th annual Karate bonzai party (but probably doing something illegal) leaving Billy and Spencer alone in the house. They always use this time to bro out and do something stupid, but now it's just emptiness and Spencer didn't know why.

He entered his home, immediately having to open the door again for the door bell.

Spencer opened the door.

After seeing the identity of the inspector, he made no effort to make an expression of surprise or anger or anything because he couldn't find any feelings reasonable enough for this tedious, redundant attempt.

“Aye there, ol' chap,” said Hover in the saddest Australian accent Spencer has ever heard.

“Why do you even _bother_ anymore?”

“What do you mean, sonny? It's the good 'ol Exterminator—”

“Can you just leave?”

Hover stood there.

“Please?”

Still there.

“I think we both know what the outcome'll be in the next 15 seconds, considering you try anyway. You might as well take the easy way to it.”

Hover blinked once.

After Spencer sighed, he said, “I gave an effort.” He shrugged and gestured towards to stairs. “Knock yourself out.”

Hover grinned and speed up the stairs as fast as his little legs could take him.

Eyes closed, Spencer groaned as his chest pained with regret. “Oh man, I shouldn't've said that.” There was a loud crash and bang upstairs, glass smashing, and the scream of a frightened and confused 60 something year old man flying in the sky South from home. “Whelp, there he goes.” On the bright side (not that Hover getting out of here was a down side), that's a sign that Billy was home somewhere. “Billy!”

* * *

* * *

  

The elevator door opened, and Spencer helped himself into his room. He found his open window broken at the closed side and his face relaxed to a read less state looking at it. Not saying anything about the window, Spencer dragged his feet towards his bed, slugged off his back pack, and flopped on his mattress, slightly bouncing from the impact. “You missed the last day of school, Billy,” his voice was silenced by the mattress under his face. “Rajeev and Shanilla gave me a ride home, so I didn't get jumped,” he turned to his side to lay on the mattress and nap, “if you care...”

This would be the part when Billy snatches Spencer out of bed, ask him why he's lazin' around in his katoosh when it's a beautiful day outside, and literally throw him into the pool out back from 3 stories up. Or maybe his mother got turned into a spider because Billy sneezed on his mother while a spider was on her, and with Billy's entomophobia, he would hurriedly get Spencer off his buns to go help him kill and/or rescue mom. Or this would be the part Billy swoops in, ask how Spence’s day was, apologize for not showing up since he was under the weather today—which would be perfectly fine with Spencer—and suggest watching a classical favorite between them to make up for it. Or maybe he can bother to drop by and say, “Hey Fresbro,” then leave.

Spencer took a nap because Spencer has a rare sleeping condition that causes him to be in an unconscious state after 2 seconds of thinking about it. Maybe Billy'll show up after he's finished sleeping.

Spencer dreamed of being in a court room. The room was dimly lit and the coloring in the room was strictly black and white. Everyone behind Spencer's table were white blobs except for obvious figures like his parents or people from school. Sitting besides Spencer was Mallory, his lawyer and the table next to him was a live Billy his age and Shanilla in a suit. Billy, for some reason, kept caressing his own face while saying how beautiful he feels. "My face feels like pretty sheep bellys," he said before glaring at Spencer with dead black eyes, "Unlike someone!"

"I'm sorry, dude!" He didn't know why he was sorry...no wait. He does. He...cheated on Billy? He cheated on Billy! With a _werewolf_! How did this get so wrong? _Do I have no self control_? He didn't even mean it, it was just a school night and everything was happening so fast! "I--"

“YOU WILD WANKING WIFFLEBALL OF WICKEDNESS!” He shouted out loud to me, rolling on the table dramatically while Broadway lights kept on him every time he moved. He shifted poses every 5 words and the lighting angles changed with his poses. “Was it worth it Wright? Was that wondrous werewolf worth it, Wright? Was it?!"

“ORDER!” Shouts Rajeev from the podium, banging his hammer on the wooden surface. “Order in the court!” He was large and big headed with cat ears and devilish eyes.

Billy held on to Shanilla, wrapping his legs around her like rope.

“We,” announced Rajeev for some reason pronouncing words as if he were a preacher in a passionate church, “are gathered here to- _DAY_ to nullify the annulment.” Spencer played with the red stoned ring on my finger, once a symbol of two lovers, now a prop to the story of a cheating floozy and an unfortunate, gorgeous man dumb enough to marry him. “Do you, Billy Joe Cobra, want to be not married to Spencer Wickedness Wright?”

“Willy Woo!” As he passionately strips off his jacket and throws it at the crowd behind him. They screamed his name, clawing at the falling fabric.

“And do you, Spencer Whackjob Wright, want to be not married to Billy Joe Cobra?”

“I don't!” I stood up from my chair, my suit, tie, and black pantyhose being shown off to everyone. Everyone told me how dashing I was in those pantyhose.

“Spencer,” said Mallory, “What are you doing? You're wearing pantyhose!”

"Yeah," said the judge. "That's _my_ thing!"

Spencer looked at his pantyhose and detested their existence. For as long as he could remember, he wore these pantyhose and never showed them to anyone. They were always hidden under pants. All he wanted his whole life was to just wear some red ones shamelessly, at least around Billy once. “It's not right, Monica. It's not Wright to not be married to Gorgeous Billy Joe Cobra without _at_ _least_ letting him see me wearing the proper pantyhose. I NEED A RED ONE!” suddenly, the sky fell with juicy, red pantyhose that made roses jealous. “ _YESH_!”

“Spencer! You can't wear _red_ pantyhose in public!” Mallory grabbed her chest and squeezed it. “It's VUL~GAR, I say _VUL~GAR_!”

“Red Pantyhose? On last day of School?” Rajeev began to sing to the beat of the background, his voice getting deeper and more menacing. “ _Don't you know you get jumped like that_!”

“Look,” rose that girl from school in the crowd. “Spencer wants to wear _red_ pantyhose! What a weirdo!”

The whole room laughed as I slouch in shame. The room began to sing the song I've hated for so many years.

“Spencer's a Weirdo!”

“ _Spencer's a Weirdo_!”

“ _SPENCER'S A WEIRDO_!”

“ _ **SPENCER'S A WEIRDO—**_!”

 

* * *

* * *

 

Spencer practically hopped off his bed in a sheer panic. He tried to catch his breath after that horrible dream.

Then he realized it wasn't _that_ horrible. It just _felt_ horrible.

Then he realized there was nothing logical in that dream whatsoever for it to be horrible, or anything other than quirky.

What was happening in that dream?

Spencer said, “What?” and decided to take a walk outside where the air's fresh. It was 7 o'clock in the evening, but the sun was still out. Maybe he can go grab a bite at the Wi-Fry. He needs it.

* * *

* * *

“And I think I've had these feelings for a while, I think. I mean, I should know it when I feel it, right? But before I got my memories back, did I? I mean, I might have, subconsciously, probably. I dunno, these days I just get this _**urge**_ to just,” Billy grabbed at imaginary solid matter in the air, “take his face and, just—just—BLUBLUGHUOSHJDS,” He brought the imaginary matter to his face while his shook his head back and forth wildly. “You know? And I think I'll do it if I'm with him too long. I don't want to do that a brotatoe chip. That's not chilly beans at all. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah, yeah,” said the business gentleman talking on the phone with the workers of Move Things after they told them that the reason why his furniture won't make it until 3 days from now was because they've been caught in an avalanche. “I've heard that story before.”

It was nice to talk to someone willing to listen and understand his problems. Especially during this time when he had no one to turn to. “Thanks, dude. But what should I _do_? I don’t want to tell Spencer the truth, but I can’t keep avoiding him like this.”

“I can't believe this,” said the guy after the workers of Move Things explained how an unexplainable situation like an avalanche falling on them in California in the summer actually happened. “Are you serious?”

“What? How would you feel if you had a secret crush on your best friend? I Oh _man_! Who has a crush on this other girl already!” I mean, if Spencer's going to miss out on _all a' dis_ for a chick who can't tell a sweater from a dirty dead fox with a scarf, then what's the point in making the effort? “Maybe not seeing him anymore is for the best.”

“Well how do you think _he'll_ feel?” Said the guy after he has been told sorry that his son's China collection has been destroyed in the avalanche.

“About what? Our friendship being over?”

“He's gonna flip!”

“Oh yeah. We did have some good times, didn't we? Spencer would be sad if I hop off and bounce like last time.”

“You know what. _You_ tell him!”

“Tell him? That's crazy!”

“Oh what's the worst that could happen if _you_ say it?”

“He won't be my buddy anymore cause I'm _weird_!”

“Take it like a man! You can take a scream and bicker, it won't break any of ya bones, but you better tell him before he finds out himself cuz that's when stuff'll really hit the fan!”

“You're right! Better now than later! I'm gonna tell him!”

“You better hop to it, cuz I aein't paying ya until you do!”

“Alright!” Filled with confidence and vigor he got off the floor in a pathetic heap of his own garbage and back to the Billy Joe Cobra he once was. “Thanks dude, you're a real help! I'll put a good word in for ya if you need anything. I'm Billy Joe Cobra if you haven't noticed.” He winked. “Welp, I'm off to see my baebro!” He flies off into the distance.

“You're the worst company I've ever paid for!” the gentleman hung up angrily. Then he sighed. “My son's going to be upset.”

 

* * *

 

“HAUCHY, WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT BANGING ON THE WALL?!?”

“CAN YOU _NOT,_ WOMAN!” Shirt tattered, limbs bruised, back and shoulders scratched and scarred, and bat firmly in his grip, Baruch scanned the room for that deformed, adorable troll that tried to eat his face off.

“I'M COMING UPSTAIRS!”

“WHATEVER!” Baruch paced to put his back on the wall, scanning the room of any paranormal activity, everywhere except skyward where Spencer actually was, waiting for Baruch to put his guard down.

The elevator door slammed opened and his mother marched into the room with a determination to traumatize. “Baruch, do you not know what _grounded_ means—what are you _doing_?”

Baruch noticed him in his current figure as a teenaged boy, looking beaten and battered, holding a bat in his grip.

“Why do you have that bat?”

 _Ghost hunting._ He understood that there was a possibility that his mother won't understand what she can't see. He went with the best defense mechanism in the teenaged book, “Can a boy carry a bat he never owned in his room for no reason without being interrogated??! Geez, mom, you're so _old!”_ As she spook, Spencer had another idea in mind and slowly descends to the head of Baruch's mother, and he couldn't help but watch in horror.  _What am I supposed to do, smack her head_? What if he misses and hits his poor mother?

“Is it too much to ask for you to sit still in your room?” she said, as Baruch watched as the horrific Spencer lands on his mother head. “I get that you're mad. I was you once, and I understand how 'fun' it is to sit in your room for weeks on end because you wanted to act on free will.”

Spencer grinned menacingly.

“But honey, you gotta learn that there are consequences for your actions.” Spencer held on to his mother's head. “You can't just do whatever you want and expect the best case scenario. When you're older, everything's not going to just _work_ out in the end.” Spencer took a huge bite on his mother's head and kept his incurs there. She placed the palm of her hand on his forehead and lowered her gaze to the floor. “Ooh, headache..."

_She can feel that?_

"Anyway, The reason I'm doing this is so you understand that bad things _can_ happen for the things that you do. I'm doing this because I love you" Spencer tugged, teeth still dug in her skull, but instead of her head pulling back, a perception of white pulled back with him. Spencer tugged at the instance of white until he was able to rip apart a big piece from his mother, "Why are you looking at me like I have 3 heads?” As that part ripped off, his mother's face became blanker and more depressed. “I bet you don't even care.You're probably thinking 'whatever' and you'll go back to doing the same old thing, like usual.”

She wasn't wrong.

Spencer ripped a white part from her back with his hands and stuffed it in his mouth. “Why do I even try anymore? I can see it on you. You don't care about anything, you just care about yourself. What Baruch wants, what Baruch needs-sorry, it's _Billy_ now, right? You can never just do it for someone else, can you?” He ripped a part from her hips and thighs and tears started falling from her eyes. “I raised you wrong. That's why you're such a horrible boy. I failed as a mother, a wife. I'm a horrible person, and it passed down to you. That's probably why your sister and father left us alone. It's our fault. Mainly yours.” When the white aura was taken out of her calves, it was as if her legs gave out without it's presence. She cried on the floor with her hands on her face, sobbing. “My life is so _horrible!_ I went so _wrong_ with everything! You're the worst thing that ever happened to me, Billy! I didn't want any of this! I just wanted a husband with a nice house and some well mannered normal kids, but no. I have to spend every second of my life baby sitting a stink'n fairy boy and making sure he doesn't screw up like he does every single second so we can keep this stupid mansion that he wants, and I never get anything in return except being the bad guy and getting no respect! I could've had that, Billy! I could've had a loving husband, a nice daughter, a normal house! But then  _you_ had to be born the way you are, and now I have to deal with _this_! _"_

Baruch didn't notice until they fell that tears were developing in his eyes. Wiping them away as fast as he could, he thought about what was wrong. This isn't like her. Why is she saying all of this? "Wow, mom. I didn't know--"

"Are you _crying?_ Boys aren't supposed to _cry_ Hauchy!  _This is what I'm talking about_ \--!" She paused. It was a thing she does when she's angry, and Baruch noticed this as he grew. His mother didn't like to yell at Baruch so she would pause and take a moment to think about her words before she said them so Baruch doesn't feel so bad. However, as Spencer tugged out the last bits of whatever white bits was attached to her, that care seemed to slip out the window. He hands vibrated dramatically, like there was something inside her was trying to erupt, until, "I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS ANYMORE!” Tears falling out of her eyes, she ran towards Baruch's bed, giving Spencer an assistance to devour the final piece of whatever it was his mother had.

“What are you doing to my mom?” He asked Spencer as Spencer tugged at the white bits like a dog pulling the other end of a held chew toy. “Stop it!” Suddenly he heard the _click_ his window makes when the lock is unhatched, and he saw his mother opening the window door and getting out of it foot first. Baruch never charged towards anything so fast in his life, and grabbed hold to his mother's waist to pull her back. “ _Mom_!” She screamed some horrid mixture of terror and sadness and pulled her body against Baruch's forces. Her weight and leg power were much to her advantage and Baruch didn't know how much he could handle anymore. “Mom, what are you doing?!”

"I'M SO SICK OF THIS! I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE! LET GO OF ME!"

"Mom, I'm sorry! I'll behave from now on."

She clawed at the window frame and put all of her force to exiting that window as she hissed, “ _ **LET GO OF ME**_!”

“I'll behave, mom, _I'll behave_! Stop doing this, _**please**_!”

Baruch was pulling her back by his fingertips, and as she was just about to jump, Spencer got the last bit of the white part from his mother. She stopped screaming, she stopped struggling to jump out the window, and fell back towards Baruch's tug on her body. They landed on the bed, mom on top of son, and the mother made no effort to move over, or move at all. “Mom, get off me.”

She didn't.

Baruch pushed her off of him, but it was difficult because he was pushing more flab than body. When he finally got himself out of the mom-alanche, he glared at the satisfied Spencer. “WHAT DID YOU DO?”

“I ate her soul.” He said this as if it was normal and socially okay, as if it was a 'duh' moment Baruch just had.

Baruch swiftly went to his mother's aid, seeing her eyes as dead as a dolls and face more nonchalant and emotionless than Bella Swan's. “Did you just kill my mother?!!?”

“No.” Spencer appeared besides him, on his back as if he was lounging on a relaxing chair on the beach. “I ate her soul like I said.”

“What are you, some kind of carnivore?!?!”

“I didn't eat her _ghost_ , I ate her _soul_! A ghost and a soul are 2 different things.” He mumbled something about humans always confusing the two.

“What's the difference?”

“We're aspirations of the dead but alive, but we do it in different ways. For ghost, we have a personality, a will, all that fun stuff, except a need to survive. A ghost is a person that's not alive and doesn't need to live.”

Baruch gets that much, but, “And a soul?”

“Your soul is the shape and build up of your personality and your will to live. So you mom,” a smacked his lips, “strong independent woman, loves you, enjoys watching soup operas, favorite book is Tones of Red. Blah blah.. The more I ate, the less she cared about anything. Now she cares about absolutely nothing: she doesn't care about you, this house, keeping herself alive or happy, nothing. She is the form of pure apathy.”

Baruch placed his hands over her nose. “She's still breathing.”

“That's her subconscious. It's like a back up generator. Beating heart and breathing are actions of the brain to keep her alive, but that can only last so long.”

It was like she was dreaming with her eyes opened. She looked like a stone-faced doll. That and many other things in this situations gave Baruch the shivers.

“Give mom her soul back!”

“No. You're stupid banging made me sick and throw up my lunch!”

"What do you need to eat for?"

"What do you need to wear clothes for?"

" _Dude_!"

"What do you want from me? I'm hungry! You do it to to cows!"

"THAT'S NOT THE POINT! YOU HAD EVERYTHING TO EAT IN THE WORLD BESIDES MY MOM'S SOUL TRAIN!"

The boy patted his stomach. "Souls take longer to digest. Keeps me full for a while. And _you_ didn't want to give yours up, so I thought...you know. She's there."

“What do you mean digest?”

“I say you got...2 days.” He chuckled with a toothy grin, showing rows of teeth pointier than fine point pen.

“So my mom is just gonna….?”

“Rot and die? Sure. That's what usually happens." From a lack of food and water, her body will dehydrate and her heart and brain will stop having enough energy to keep her going, approximately 5 days from now. She will eventually die and no one can say she was anything except extremely depressed.

"So that's all you got to say?"

" _What do you want me to do_?"

" _SPIT HER OUT!_ "

"I already ate her!"

"If you're not coughing her up, I'm coming at you with the Common Cold!" He tried to leap for it, but Spencer swooshed across the room and left Billy having his legs over his head on the floor.

"You dinglebot! I'm a _ghost_!" He evaporated into thin air, but his voice bounced off the walls all the same. "I'M NOWHERE!" Suddenly, Baruch couldn't look at any object or space without seeing his adorableness over taking it. "I'M EVERYWHERE!" The faces came together to come close and personal with his face and mind. "I'm touching you untouchable. I'm nothing but a walking voice to scrubs like you!" He smacked his ears shut, hoping to trap him inside his head, but he slipped out to tell him, "You better call the Ghost Busters if you ever want to  _dream_ about catching this ectospitter!" He laughed maniacally, a literal "MWA HA HA HA~" and dispersed into the air with his voice lagging. "LOSER!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBC, or something Idduno


	17. The Brotherly Confession Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> uUuUuUGH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eating a pie while think over my life

_How Do You Know You Like Him?_

It was this stupid, girly quiz in a magazine Spencer saw on the racks next to his table. The page was opened and he happened to glance at it. He already knew he had a HUGE crush on Mallory, but he was curious if the results would come out the same if he took the test. At the end of the day it was just a stupid quiz, and he guessed he should try it out to pass the time. Spencer picked up the magazine, which was over a bunch of booklets titled _How do You Know You Like Her?_ and grabbed a pencil to get started. The pencil came out of nowhere, don't worry about it.

 _Cute boy out there and you're not sure if you like him? Stupid boy getting on your nerves and you're wondering if you enjoy the attention?_ Of course he was replacing 'boy' with 'girl' and 'him' with 'her'. Of course. _Well you came to the right place! Take this quiz to see if Cupid struck you with his arrow_.

 _This stuff's drowning in cheese_ , he thought. He was wondering why he picked up this stupid quiz to begin with and remembered this is something to do because he was bored.

1\. How often do you think about him?

a. He's practically in my dreams every night!  
b. He might pop in my head sometimes.  
c. I can't STAND the thought of him!  
d. I don't

He circled a.

2\. How do you feel when he's around?

a. I get so happy I just want to barf!  
b. He's a nice guy to be around, but I don't feel anything serious.  
c. I just want to pound his face in!  
d. I don't feel anything

He circled b. Then reconsidered, circled a, and decided to circle a and b at the same time.

3\. How do you feel when he touches you?

a. I get butterflies in my stomach and I can't stand it sometimes!  
b. It depends on his intentions really  
c. UGH! Get off of me!  
d. Meh

He circled a.

4\. You're thoughts if he kissed your cheek?

a. *Internal squealing*  
b. How friendly.  
c. GROOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSS!  
d. Meh

He circled d.

5\. You're thoughts if he kissed your _lips_?

a. *covers face*  
b. That'd be kind of weird. I don't know.  
c. I'd rather DIE!  
d. Meh

Spencer thought about the scenario in his head then instinctively covered his face once the imaginary 'Mallory' was leaning towards him for a kiss. He circled a.

6\. In the space provided, draw a picture of his face to your best ability.

Well of course Spencer could draw 'Mallory' from the dome. Who couldn't? It's easy to get that hooked nose of hers, her wonderful smile, those round black eyes, her round face, her short spiky hair, just capturing her handsomeness in general. It's hard _not_ to be able to draw her.

7\. Last but not least, think of your wedding and write down what it looks like.

_In a meadow during the summer, pillars kissing the sky, dancing on the marble flooring painted with nothing but the finest art pieces demonstrating love and devotion, the moon shines in her eyes as she looks down on me and we'll ball room dance the night away. It will be just the two of us. She'll swing me under her arms and tell me how beautiful I am under the moon light, then kiss me._

Spencer couldn't hold back his smile after having that thought. Then he frowned after realizing he smiled.

He turned the page to the answers and it read “Mostly A's? Picture so perfect I can pull him out the page? Smiled at the thought of marrying him? You're LOVESTRUCK!”

Spencer tossed the magazine in the air then continued eating his cheesy fries angrily. That was just a stupid quiz anyway.

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

The sun was setting northwest via 4 p.m and hued the city with a beautiful shade of orange. The umbrella over Spencer shades him in blue and made a strict line mid torso where the sun hits and where the umbrella covers. it was that time of the day when you can look at the sun and it doesn't hurt your eyes, and Spencer was staring at the sunset to pass the time. The light from the sun shined on Spencer's eyes and they seemed to glow a lighter shade of brown than they did before. To Billy, the scene of a boy eating cheese fries at his favorite (and only known) restaurant was unbelievably beautiful, and he never felt so sad to not have a camera or a painting skill.

Today was the day to make his move.

Today.

Was.

 _The day_.

He swooped right in and was about to spill it to Spence how it is. He's going to spill the beans, crack the smack, lay it on him like a pancake then spread the butter of lover all over the surface he can't do this.

Who does he think he is confessing to his brotatoe chip skylark? That breaks, like, every friendship code in the world.

He's a horrible person for even considering it. I mean it's not like he's obligated to tell Spencer or the world's going to explode or something. He can just not tell him and feel ashamed of himself for having these feelings like normal people.

He slugged away into the streets of Hollywood, becoming one with the pavement. Maybe he can get run over by a car and die again.

Once a car passed through him however, he remembered his eternal fate.

“Oh woe is me!” says an actress practicing a script in the middle of the street. “How my love, Britt, has left me to do charitable work in Sweden for Goat Suffrage saddens me so! I never told him how much I loved him out of fear and disdain. Now I will have to live with the _regret_ , sore over the painful question, 'What if'?”

Filled with inspiration, Billy got back in there.

She fist pounded the sky with glee. “I am _so_ getting this part!”

 

* * *

* * *

 

“Spencer!” That's too forceful. “Heyo Spencerono.” Who _says_ that? “Hey, 50 Spence chips, how's it going?” Nah, too natural. This is much harder than asking the chicks out back when he was alive. They just walked up to him, asked, they did their thing and he broke up with her. Why is this any different? Spencer was approaching fast and Billy's heart raised a beat per second every inch closer he was to him. _Come on, dude, this is Spencer._ He thought of Spencer, and every dumb thing Billy could remember Spencer labeling unreasonably, but Spencer rarely holding it against him, still respecting him, and most importantly still being his buddy. While Billy thinks that worst that could happen is that Spencer shuns him from existence, realistically, _the worst that can happen is he says no_. It might be a little strange to him, but that's all really. It would be super ridiculous that his _best friend_ drops the ship because of some puppy crush. _It'll be okay_...

He slowly inched towards Spencer's spot, Spencer having his back facing him. “Spencer?” Billy began, him not answering. He wondered why, than remembered he's been ditching him for some weeks. He could understand if he got mad at him after pulling that stunt _again_ during a week he didn't need that. “Dude, I'm sorry for avoiding you again, but we got to talk. We've been going around the subject for a while now, and I think we should talk about it before we do anymore damage, because you're my best buddy and I don't want to ruin anything, so uhm..." He swallowed. "I mean, it might have been obvious already but...” he took a deep breath, letting the words out in one exhale, “I like you...? And not as in, brobro sort of thing. I mean...the next level stuff. Like....I... _like you_ like you. I thought I should tell you that...” Spencer, as if Billy wasn't there, continued to eat his fries uncaring. “Spencer, I know you're mad at me, but this is really personal stuff I’m telling you here. At least look at m...” he trailed off once he felt the BJC ring under his hand where the cheese fries were.

Why would he put this ring down??!? This was made by BJC _himself_! This is practically if Prada and Ambrochrome &Finche had a baby x 2000. This is more expensive than the _world_  and he's treating it like it's some cheap earring for the prom! Forcefully, Billy jabbed Spencer cheesy index finger inside the hole, the first he says being, “WATER U DOING! Does this look like a ring pop to you??! This is made by _me!_  Do you know how important this handcrafted object is to be made by  _me_!??! Children in China are  _dying_ because of this ring! This was supposed to be on  _Lord of the Rings_ but it was too epic for people to film! How _dare_ you just...” Spencer, shiny black eyes wide, looked at Billy after not seeing him for half a month and his mouth was left agap. Billy then remembered he was in the middle of a confession. “Uh.”

“Billy!”

“Spencer.” Suddenly, all of his bravery and everything he wanted to say went away with the wind and he was stuck there dumbstruck. He cleared his throat. "Yo."

“Dude, I haven't seen you since, forever ago." He blinked and shifted his mood to be more aggressive. "What the heck? Where were you?”

"I was, uh--"

"Is this about that stupid promise again? Are we going to do this _every time_  that crosses your mind?"

Spencer's voice droned out in Billy's ears, and all he could hear was his heart beat. Today was supposed to be the day. Here it is. This was the time to spill it out. Unfortunately there was a lump in his throat not letting Billy utter even a grunt. He was verbally handicapped. This speech block and audio droning gave him room for fear to sink in.  _What am I doing? I'm such a Stupid Stew. Spencer's my friend. All that happened in the past was in the past. He doesn't remember Baruch anymore. It's just Billy Joe Cobra now._

He thought of a new speech in his head, the one that would get Spencer to stop being so mad and convince him to share his cheese fries with him. He'll stop being a jerk face from now on and be present, and Spencer would forgive him in a heartbeat for saying sorry. They'll live on as friends like they used to and it would be like none of this ever happened. It would be like the old days when things were well and not awkward, and Spencer would be happy to have his friend back.

That's all Spencer wanted from Billy anyway: a friend.

"Sorry, dude," he said with a half hearted smile. "I..." his voice died out once his fingers brushed on the ring.

He'll never forget that moment when he knew that there was someone out there looking beyond the fame, the glory, and the sexiness, and loving who's the person inside his heart. He'd never forget the day he knew there was a place out there to feel like Baruch Cohen instead of BJC. He'd never forget the day he felt like himself and was loved for it.

That was the day he feel in love for the second time.

"I need to tell you something."

"For the nth and a half TIME, boy, I _don't care_ about the thing--!!"

"It's not about that."

"Then what?!"

A student who was practicing for the summer how to play the accordion came in. He was awfully good for a beginner and the sounds had this magical effect to them, as if each note made someone somewhere fall in love. The city vultures, in the mood for the uneaten fries Spencer had on his table, circled the table. Although, at a far distance, those white seagulls looked like pure doves. Someone beside them was carrying a bag of paper hearts and tripped on the foot of a bully. Her sack of hearts burst out of the bag and fluttered slowly to the ground behind Spencer and Billy.

"That day when I made that promise--"

"Billy--!"

"Let me finish! When I broke that promise, I hurt you. You were the most important person in the world to me so breaking that promise is a big deal. "

Spencer waited for a 'well besides me of course', but he never said it. He felt this odd uneasiness.

"I should get over it. That promise should have been something to agree with just to agree with but it wasn't. I can't get over it because there was a reason I said yes and I just ignored my heart. I would rather be famous than be happy, and sometimes I want to take away everything I have if it could give me the chance to set things the way I wanted--no--the way I _needed_ to be."

"Billy, what are you talking about?"

The accordion player practiced a complex sheet of music that increased that shifted the mood dramatically.

"Spencer, I--"

The accordion player missed and note and the girl started to pick up her hearts.

The shocking cold smacked Spencer like a slap to the face once the slushy dropped on Spencer. He opened his mouth to scream, “Yikes!” Klet and his crew “heh heh” to themselves seeing Spencer so shocked and confused.

Billy was not amused.

“Heh heh,” said Klet, “Who are you talking to, freak? You're loser imaginary frIE _ **ND**_...!!” He screamed after Billy tossed him in the air by the shirt nonchalantly. After a moment, his other friends slowly moon walked out of the lot.

“What the heck, dude! What if he falls on pavement—?”

Billy pointed at the passing mattress truck Klet landed on. “Now, as I was saying,” as more food was present, more far away seagulls circled the table and the wind blow the hearts into the air as the accordion player tried again. “I...I think I li—”

The accordion player pressed the wrong key and the seagulls attacked their prey as Lolo poured her food on Spencer. Chuckling, she said, “Oops, sorry Spencer. I was just looking for the trash. Hard to tell you apart from it.” Her and the soapies behind her laughed as more and more food was poured on Spencer. Billy snatched a slushie in midair and threw it on Lolo's dress. Flabbergasted, she screamed and ran off as fast as her heels could take her, her friends following soothe.

Spencer hissed a little bit. “Oooh, she's going to find a reason to make me pay for that.”

“Please, I bet that dress was on sale in Old Navy. She'll be fine.” Billy cleared his throat. “Now,” he began once more, “As I was saying. Spencer, I think I li—”

“Actually, Billy, you want to take this somewhere else?” Spencer pointed at the large amounts of seagulls circling the table because of Spencer's body food. “These seagulls are looking kind of aggressive.” One pooped, and it went right on Billy, his transparency evaporating on sight.

“Hey! You can see me!”

Spencer scooted over to the side and counted down from 5 in his head.

“What's the matter?”

“LOOK EVERYONE,” said a fangirl in the distance, “IT'S BILLY JOE COBRA!” All the girls piled on Billy developing a fan mountain.

On the money.

Spencer got up from his seat and walked away, knowing the hazards of messing with a predator devouring its prey. “We~ll, I gotta wash this food off me. I'm going home. You can tell me later, okay? Have fun with your pile, bro.”

Billy stuck out and arm, his scream muffled by the mountain of fans crushing him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ye


	18. Ghost Busting Sleepers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wouldn't you like to know :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My writing style might've changed. I hope you all can still enjoy.

The floors creaked under Jane’s feet, each floor board screeching in fear that this day will be their last. Her scrunched up face was as red as tomato, getting so heated that the excess steam had to come out of her ears. Of course, as a mother she was enraged that someone would kidnap her son in the middle of the night and keep him hostage in the City of Hullaballu for two weeks, but what makes her more upset was that she didn’t get enough time to chew him out for it. She was filled with so much rage, so much hatred, and so many not nice words that she wanted to scream. It took all her power not to fire them towards the boy that didn’t deserve it.

He was sitting on the family couch, waiting to go to school and playing tik tak toe with his baby sister who was mopping the floor and the ceiling with his circles like a champ. She’s, like, one half years old and still wrapped in a blanket, but it’s fine.

“I _cannot_ believe that _guy_!” She shouts to herself with no one to complain to. “And to think I let him in my house! Made him cookies! Gave him the warmest welcome! And he did that to my son--!”

Finally, a floorboard cracked under her. The adjacent floor board shed a tear for it’s lost brother, but the grand master floor board patted its surface and told it to stay strong. That’s what Gilboard would have wanted….

Instead of pacing back and forth and giving Baruch’s stupidity power, she decided to pack the rest of Spencer’s bag for school. Every time she zipped passed Spencer, he couldn’t help but cringe a little, hoping she won’t turn her attention to him. Spencer had no idea his mom was going to be this upset about it. He thought to himself that he should’ve known better than to go out passed 7 and stop routine. He shouldn’t’ve come up with that plan to hang out with Billy. He should’ve just gone back to bed. _This is all my fault_. After his sister drew a line through her consecutive X’s, Spencer’s lips quivered.

But then he looked his eyes in the eye and gave them the what for for those upcoming tears. “ _Rule numbrella trees!_ ” He said outloud. “I’m a big boy!”

“Spencer!” He flinched at the sound. His bookbag flopped to his side when he turned her attention to her. “It’s time to go to school.”

“Yes ma’am.”

* * *

At the crack of dawn, the golden ball of fire barely kisses the sky, but that does stop it from coloring the surface with all it’s warm brethren. It was just cool enough to cut a comforting breeze through Spencer’s clothes, but not enough to get passed his mother’s warm fist where his hand was. He watched the clouds develop on the floor and whisk away to a grand adventure, somewhere unheard of. A vulture cawed in the distance and circled her prey casually.

His mother shot a Nerf dart at it.

It fell.

“THAT’S WHAT YOU GET, BRITNEY!” She shouts at her fallen appointment.

It cawed back at her.

Spencer never did understood what was going on between his mother and the vultures, but then again he never gave it much thought. Their interactions were as normal as breathing in his 5 year old mind, especially since he had no right to talk as a ‘ghost whisperer’ and all.

“Spencer, we need to have a talk about my cousin.”

He gulped.

“I gave this a good thought and...I _know_ Billy is your friend, but you shouldn't have those types of influences in your life.”

"What are you saying?" He had no idea what an in flu ants was, but it didn't have a good connotation to it.

"I'm saying that," she sighed, trying to ignore that painfully sad look on her son's face, "I'm not letting Billy back here ever again."

Spencer held his hands to his mouth and gasped. _No May goose dada!_ “But mommy--!”

“No buts! This is the best way to keep you safe.”

“But I was safe. He saved me from man eating ladybugs and ghost spookies!”

What on earth kind of sick and twisted mind does Baruch have? _Who says that to child?_  “I don’t care if he hired Chuck Norris, you were in danger. And I have no doubt he'll do that again if he ever comes back here, that selfish--” she growled her curse away.

“But, mo--”

“No!”

Usually, he would start to cry out waterfalls over the fact that he lost his only true friend, but ruler umbrella tee’s denied it.

Still, the bubbles on his eyes were still developing enough for Jane to see. “Don’t be sad, sweetie. Friends come and go, but when you’re old friends go there’s room to make better ones in the future.”

With that being said, they arrived at the door to his personal prison. He could hear them plotting his demise on the other side of that worrisome, blue door. “But I’ll never make another friend here. Nobody likes me.”

“Don’t be silly! _Everyone_ likes you! You’re a really good boy. Some people just have a funny way of showing it sometimes. You just got to try a little bit harder everyday, okay?”

He wanted to tell his mom how impossible that was with a group of kids who were out to dehumanize him just for the way he tied his shoes, but he knew after months of the same action, it will go to deaf ears. “Okay.”

She turned the knob to the door and gently pushed her son into the dark room. “Have fun in school!”

The door slammed behind him.

As he entered the room, he heard the horrifying chant he longed to die out and never hear again.

But today was a dedicated day.

They brought instruments for the song. But nothing basic like the kazoo or the recorder. No, no. They brought an _Orchestra_ . There were Cellos, trumpets, triangles, the big drums, the whole shabang gang was here to make this chant _lit_ and _ill_ . They even hired some professionals to fill in the seats for the important parts of the composition, and a DJ in the back of the room was there to sneeze on the beat and make it sicka. These children were not coming hear to just sing today; today _ART_ was going to be produced on this world that will be told to their children and their children’s children for generations to come. This morning, Mozart was going to rise from the dead to compose this song, never writing another work again after this wonderful masterpiece since he will then know that he has accomplished perfection.

But who was going to sing if everyone was on an instrument? Why only the most important people for the job were going to do it; none other than The other girl with a name along with This boy who has a name too was going to sing an Italian Opera consist of 5 words, and only those 5 words were going to be said repeatedly for a good hour.

But this wasn’t going to happen under some cruddy lighting with chipped paper on the wall. Proper art deserved proper presentation. They replaced the flooring with satin carpet, wrapped the walls with red velvet, and layered the ceiling with a strip of gold. Chandeliers twinkled as they shone over the heads of the performers as they began their masterpiece.

The lights dimmed.

It began…..

 _Spencer è un tipo strano…._  
_Spencer è un tipo strano…._ _  
_ Spencer è un tipo stra--NO!

The music got more instance, and this boy with a name too chipped it. They continued signing, letting their angelic voices moved their teacher to tears.

A part of Spencer wasn’t that upset because of how beautifully presented this orchestra was.

But another part of him was, indeed, upset.

* * *

He slapped the phone book over and over, pages turning around the world at the speed of light until he found a list of contacts he was looking for. The ad had a big X on it, but it was written in a very elegant style. At least this person had some taste to their sound.

He flipped open his bulky, black phone and dialed the number immediately. After 3 rings and walking back and forth on the living room rug enough to make a drift mark on it, a women answered on the other side. “Hello? Madame Xterminator here to solve you paranormal dilemmas.”

Her voice was somehow soothing and erie at the same time. It fitted with the mysterious background music that was playing for some reason. “Hey. I have this ghost in my house that ate my mom’s soul.”

“Oooh. A hungry spirit! A marvelous addition to my collection.” She gently caressed the jars of all her prey, sitting cooly on her shelves. Hearing them howl in agony sent joyish shivers down her spine. “What time would you like to schedule an exercise?”

“How’s right now?”

“Oh well, I might be booked. Let’s take a peek at my appointments.” She flipped open her black planner, looking through her blank sheets of paper like there was going to be a hidden treasure map somewhere if she looked hard enough, ‘mmhmm’ing twice per page. Although, on April 7th at 12:00 p.m, she was scheduled to give two cents. _I forgot all about that joke._ “Splendid! Looks like I’m free for right now.”

“Chibangalishious!” That was not clever at all. He knew better. Why did he throw away his first impression on such a stupid word? Now he had to live with that for the rest of his life.

“Name and address, please?”

“Billy Joe Cobra. The Cobra Mansion.”

She exclaimed a surprise on the other line. “I thought your voice sounded familiar. Well it is quite the honor to work with you Mr. Cobra, but I must ask for a specific address.”

This was a very bizarre situation. He never actually identified his house with an address before. And he sure wasn’t in the mood to go check. I mean, he gets his mom’s soul taken from her, and now you go ask him to walk _all_ the way down stairs for such a trivial detail; he has so much on his plate right now and he really just can’t. “I dunno.”

She ‘hmmed’ on the other line. “Well, lucky for you, I’m in the same area. I’ll just ask around on the way there. You’ll see me in 20 minutes or less.”

“Alrighty tighty! Lates.” He pressed the button with a phone down and checked how much minutes he had left. It looked like about 20000001t. _That’s not good. Better buy some more._

Suddenly, he heard the familiar bark of a cutie patootie reptile he called family. He jumped at the sound and landed plankly on his side, giving Wendy the opportunity to crawl on his shoulder and rest there.

“Wendy? Is that you?”

She made a weird but adorable random sound, something you think Stich would say.

How the heck did she get here by herself?

But then he remembered on that fateful day when he left his ambiguously described home country…….

* * *

“Nag nag complain nag complain nag nag!”

“Whatever, mom.” He mindlessly piled his many bags in the trunk as he could, trying to pretend that he was listening to his mother.

“Complain nag nag complain nag complain, you’re amazing and I’m a hater!”

“ _I know mom! Gosh!_ ” One of the bags felt more scalish than usual, but that was probably a rare fish purse or something. As long as it gets out of _here_ , with it’s barking self.

“Nag nag nag nag complain nag complain nag--for the love of--how many bags did you _bring_? I thought I told you not to carry that much clothes!”

“And I didn’t. I had to live with these limitations for a whole couple of weeks just to please _you_.” Sometimes he wondered how he mustered up the audacity to go outside with his Bad Jackson jacket without taking good old Annie the hat with him.

“ _Limitations_? What did you have to dress up for out here in the middle of nowhere?”

“I got a rep to keep, and I intend to keep it in check on and off the camera! Fabulousness never comes in one set,” He gave her a quick body check “not that _you_ would know.”

She ‘hmmed’ him, then snuck a peek at her attire to see what he was talking about. _I don’t look that bad, do I?_

* * *

As he walked out of his personal elevator, Baruch snuggled Wendy for dear life as she waited for this mushy stuff to end. Hearts popped out of nowhere and exploded as soon as they came, but Baruch didn’t mind them (or at least he tried to (he found coping with these strange phenomena will be easier if he just didn’t question them or notice them happening)) It seems that not forgetting Wendy was engraved into his subconscious and he accidentally took her with him. While the sound of having a croc as a pet got some awe to it, he honestly had no idea how to take care of a crocodile on his own. Then he heavily question why that mattered to him. HE HAS A PET CROCODILE!

He held her out with his arm stretched forward. “I’m so glad you’re here, Wendy! You won’t believe what went down out here! My plushy buddy went coocoo for coacoa pebbles and ate my _mom_!” He directed her attention to the spiritually lifeless carcass on his bed.

Wendy’s eyes were facing opposite directions as he spoke, and one of her eyelids lagged behind the other as she blinked. She made another adorable sound as a response while opening her mouth like a pacman.

“I know right! But don’t worry. I called a Ghost Buster to come help us.”

Right when he said that, his doorbell rang.

* * *

* * *

He didn’t have the same dream, but it was just as eerie. Billy was in it again and he was Spencer’s bride in crime as they defeated zombie werewolves or something. It ended with people realizing the bride was a man and everyone calling Spencer a weirdo. Everytime he closed his eyes, it seemed, those dreams and dreams with a similar atmosphere or theme were recurring. It kept him uneasy, waking up in fear every time. Eventually, he felt too uneasy to go back to sleep.

It was 3 in the morning and he had about 4 hours to kill without sleeping. _I could work on my summer homework, I guess._ Reading a book was a good way to go back to sleep. Though he could also do some math problems. He decided to do math; the endless stream of numbers were sure to make him tiresome.

Moments later, while he multiplied the divisions here and there on his desk, he thought over what Billy could have possibly had to tell him.

* * *

“ **_I LOVE YOU!_ **

“I’ve been keeping this in me like a bird in a cage for a billion years and I am sick and tired of it banging the bars with a mug waiting to come out! I am in love with you ya pooped haired country bumpkin! I love you and your your skinny noodle arms and yours dumb goofy grin that I can’t help but want to kiss everytime I look at it! I love your stupid obsession with zombies and man eating ladybugs and horror things and I love that no matter how many people think it’s stupid, you’re still comfortable with who you are and what you like and you don’t care who sees which is really something I’ve always admired about you but couldn’t find a situation to say it to your face cause you’re so modest and pure hearted and never fishing for compliments because you can handle your own and you’re dedicated to what you want in life. Literally nothing that comes out of my mouth to you will ever affect how you’re turning about in life cause you already know for a fact where you’re going!

“I love the way you talk and the way you speak words cause you always sound like yourself and I never hear anyone else when you’re speaking. I always hear you and that’s really cool that you’ve found your voice and what makes you happy and you’re so confident about it. You’re always set on a goal and your moxi and resilience is amazing and I’ve always looked up to you about it and hope I get to be just like you one day because you’re such a bouncer and thinker in desperate situations and I love you for it.

“No one’s ever been this amazing or this relatable or this cute in my life and I want to spend the rest of it living and dead with you cause no one in this world is as perfectly shaped into the master piece I see before me. I’ve never met anyone who understood my bropuns as much as you do, or walked the talk as much as you do, or was as cute as much as you are. I always want to stuff your face with sugar, spice and everything nice until it gets so bloated that you explode and I feel so weird about wanting to do that but the feelings are there and the urge never leaves everytime you so much as chuckle. And every little thing you do sets me squealing like a siren and making me so happy like when you study and you’re working so hard or when you go outside and swim in the pool or when you drink a milkshake!

“I like to watch you sleep at night while you twist and tumble and make weird faces until I go to sleep too. I like going to school with you cause I hate sitting in the house all day without you in it! You literally make my world! I want to take you away to a place no one knows and just frolick in a field of flowers and raise an army of zombies for you to control so I can see you have fun and smile. I want to dress you up as the prince charming you are and give you a castle so I can have the proper setting to propose and marry you! I want to grab your cute pumpkin face and connect faces with it while we share each other's breath until we pass out from carbon dioxide poisoning wait and few minutes and go back at it again until we pass out from too much joy.

“And most of all I want to tell you all these things on the other side of the window but I can’t because my heart is made out of chicken nuggets and cat fur!” he said to his reflection on Spencer’s bedroom window. He let himself have a deep exhale before he continued with desperate tears in his eyes. “Free me from this personal heck and release me from eternal suffering, _heathan_!” He moaned exasperatedly and slammed his face on his hands.

* * *

Spencer concluded it was probably something stupid like some new shoes or something while Billy whacked himself with a frying pan in the background. _Still he looked kinda serious about it_ . _He also said it had something to do with the promise he made me._ A time hadn’t came yet when he wished they never made that dumb promise. It ruined everything. He didn’t know why he asked Billy to be his fiance, but he always wished he could take it back if it meant none of this had to happen. He hated his past self for ruining everything, and he hated even more that he knew nothing about his past.

_Great. Now I’m cranky._

He decided to drink some milk and try to go back to bed.

* * *

Spencer sobbed suddenly.

His glass of milk shook in his hand while two whole tears streamed down his face. Face scrunched up, he sniffed once and looked for some paper towels in the dark kitchen. He didn’t know why he started sobbing; he didn’t think of anything particularly sad while he was getting milk. It was a weird moment, even though he did know why and he didn’t want to admit it to himself just yet.

After chugging down his milk, he went back upstairs while wiping away that weird moment with his towelette.

* * *

* * *

Her hair was long and purple and her nail polish matched. Her lips were a notable factor too since they were as red as the blood of her enemies. She couldn’t have been no older than a student out of college but she didn’t look like someone who wanted to be a part of that nonsense. From her jumpsuit to her ghost earrings, she was completely devoted to the practice of ghost hunting.

Baruch was not only incredibly mesmerized by her looks but by her horrible attire as well. It was so bold and daring that it made a fantastic statement. He didn’t think someone could work something so awful, but she did it just fine, nothing that can be done by no one but true masters of confident fashion.

“Mr. Cobra?” She said in her chilling, reassuring voice.

“That’s me, ma’am.”

“It’s a pleasure and an honor to meet you,” she extended her hand to Baruch for a handshake.

Usually, it was universal knowledge that no one has the privilege to shake Baruch’s hand or even think about the possible opportunity, but the fact that she took her own initiative to do it while simultaneously stating her role in their relationship made Baruch’s heart skip a beat for some reason. He couldn't control his doopy smile. “The pleasure’s all mine, Madame Xterminator.”

“Oh stop the formalities. My friends call me X.” She welcomed herself inside, holding a complex gun in her hand that looked like an advanced vacuum cleaner. “So where is this hungry ghost?”

“I have no idea. He’s ‘nowhere and everywhere’ apparently.”

“Well lucky for you, these types of ghost aren’t that difficult to capture. We’ll most likely find him in the kitchen first and foremost.” Baruch lead her to the kitchen as she continued talking. “If we’re lucky, he’s probably rummaging through a container of some sort, like a jar for example. But if not, I already have one specially prepared.” She took out a shiny, glass jar from her back and showed it towards the sun. “This is an anti-ghost jar. He can’t go through it once inside or out. With that being said, you have the option to let me keep the ghost or you do so--”

“Heaven to betsy, no! Puh- _leees_ make like a basketball get that thing outta here!”

X grinned from ear to ear while a dark shade descended from her face. “As you wish.”

As X predicted, the ghost was indeed in the kitchen. He was devouring food like nobody’s business and zipping throughout the room like a wild monkey. Catching him looked like an impossible task to the untrained eye.

“Child’s play! You sounded like there was a life on the line on the phone!”

“Uh, yeah. There is.”

“Oh yes. Your mother’s soul.” Like it was nothing, she vacuumed up the ghost with one hand on the gun and another on her hip. “I can easily take care of that too.” She frantically shook her gun for a few seconds. Suddenly, after a regurgitating noise, a white gust of air emerged out of the gun and traversed through the air and out of the kitchen. “Her soul will return to her body shortly. Hopefully she wasn’t in there for more than 10 hours. But I’m glad you called me when you did.” She chucked her vacuum in a decorative glass jar and pulled the trigger. The Spencer ghost went inside it, but as a smaller version of himself so he could fit. He didn’t fight or complain about her captivity. Instead he clutched his stomach and doubled over in pain while tears went down his eyes. This allowed X to quickly put a lid on top of the jar. She crossed her arms over her shoulders before looking at her client in the eye. “Done.”

Baruch was amazed that the problem was solved in an instant. To be honest, he felt more disappointed than he did relieved. He expected a little more...conflict. You know, some obstacles here and there, a running gag or two, an adventurous tale to tell his grandchildren that will last at least 11 minutes! He tried ignoring his desire to let the Spencer fake out of the jar himself. “Thank you, X!”

“No problem. You can send the check in the mail.” She said this while staring intently at the crying boy suffering inside of the jar. He moved about in hopes to distract himself from his stomach pains, but moving only made it worse. Every other second that passed, he cried louder and sadder and soon Baruch actually considered thinking about what was going on.

“Is he going to be okay?”

“No, actually. By the looks of it, he died from hunger. He will suffer the rest of his afterlife with an empty stomach.”

“Oh.” That sounded like it sucked. “Are you going to feed him?”

She carelessly stuffed him into her backpack before looking at her client and scoffing. “Nonsense! There’s no point; you’re feeding a fire that way. You’re doing him a better service by getting him used to it.” That didn’t sound very fun. X could see what he was thinking on his face. “Trust me. After two weeks, he’ll forget what the concept of eating even is.” She took her leave, swishing her hips to the rhythm of her theme song and slamming the door behind her.

For a few seconds, Baruch had a conscience, but he was interrupted by his mother calling him upstairs.

Then he remembered that he had a bone to pick with her.

* * *

“Hauchy?” She called down the hallway. “Hauchy, where are you?”

“I’m over here,” Baruch pouted near the bathroom door.

His mother was relieved to finally see him after that very bizarre experience of being inside a ghost stomach. She ran down the disc covered hallways with her arms open wide. “Oh sweetie! I was so worried--”

“Don’t touch me, liar!” He turned his back on her, still slouching and pouting.

She stopped running towards him and backed away two steps from his personal space. “Liar?”

“You said you loved me but you were just sweet talking the whole time!”

“What do you mean? I do love you--”

“ _Liar!_ ” This time, she could hear his voice shaking.

“What makes you say that?”

“I heard you without your soul.”

She remember tidbits of what she said to Baruch while her soul was being taken, all not very nice things that she would never say or mean if she was whole. “I wasn’t myself at the time--”

“But that was still in your head somewhere! You think I’m an annoying little brat, just like everyone else! If you don’t like being here so much, you can just leave! _I don’t need another hater in my life_!”

“But Hauchy, I don’t want to leave. I only said those things because my motivation wasn’t there at the time.”

“What? Getting huge stacks of money? Wife material?”

“You.”

For a moment, Baruch stopped talking. “What do you mean me?”

“Helping you succeed is the only reason I follow you through this career. Really, I’d do just about anything for you if it means you get to be...well here: happy, healthy, on top, yourself. When he took that from me, I hated everything about this life cause I didn’t care about you anymore. If it wasn’t for you, I’d pack up my bags and leave in a heartbeat.”

_“But no one’s making you stay here! ”_

“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” She slowly walked up to her star. “I like watching you grow and succeed. I don’t want to miss a single second of one of the most happiest moments of your life. _You are_ the highlight of everything about this, and you’re worth more than anything the world has for me--” Suddenly, her son grabbed her waist and buried his face in her abdomen. She held him back, tenderly. “I love you honey.”

He didn’t reply.

“Where’s that ghost child?”

His voice was muffled by his mother’s shirt. “I called a ghostbuster and she took him away somewhere where he’ll never--”

“We have to find him immediately!”

Baruch shot up from his mother abs to glare at her like a murderer. “What in a cup?”

“He needs help.”

“Are you kidding? Are we going to forget the part when he _ate your soul_?”

“It was because he was hungry!”

“Uh-duh!”

“Listen. When he ate my soul, I was inside his….mind I guess. It was very strange, but I somehow managed to travel through the boys life before his death. It was like I was watching a movie, except it was happening fast and slow at the same time. And whenever I get to the part when he died, everything goes black and it starts over.”

“You know what happened to Dr. J?”

“His name was James. James Peach.”

* * *

* * *

* * *

He was born in 1937 on an April morning. He had two wonderful parents. No one could raise him better than they could. But when he was 4, they passed away from some weird gas that blew up in their home. He wasn’t there when it happened. His friend let him stay at his home, but then these mean men made them all move to a blocked part of town. It was cramped and dirty, filled with little food and little medicine. His friend’s parents blamed James for why they had to come to that horrible town, and kicked him out of the family.

With nowhere else to go, he wandered the streets alone, living off the charity of others. If he had to, he didn’t wait for charity sometimes. He was always hungry, though. He always wished on a big star that he could get a really big meal that could keep him full for days. Then, one day, he slipped into a really big hole. He was too small to get out. No one was there to help, even though he screamed so loud. And even if someone was there to help, they never did. He was stuck there for days, getting weaker and weaker. Eventually, he didn’t have enough strength to get up. Some time after he didn’t have enough strength to even open his eyes.”

* * *

* * *

* * *

“Don’t you see? He was just hungry.”

He couldn’t believe Dr. Joseph lied to him. James Peach is _much_ sexier than Joseph LaBel. “And you want to solve that problem by setting a soul eater free?” Before he let his mother retaliate, he haught a big laugh. “No way, Mose! He’s a two ton weight off our shoulders. It’s not like he’ll die or anything.”

“But he’ll suffer! And he’ll keep suffering until we set him free from it.”

“Nope.”

“Hauchy--!”

“Nuh-uh! I’m done with this ghost business!” lol.

“What if he was Spencer?”

Baruch was suddenly stumped. He didn’t like the idea that Spencer could meet the same fate as James. But then again, he not no reason to worry about that. “But he’s not.”

“But what if he was? That could be Spencer spending the rest of eternity with an empty stomach. You’d just leave him to suffer so he won’t eat your soul?”

He didn’t want to think about tough choices like that, and he didn’t want to think about why that is a tough choice. “But he’s not.”

“Have some sympathy! The boy means no harm to anyone.”

“We are not having this conversation.” Baruch walked away to his elevator at the middle of the hallway. "I can't believe you're trying to get me to help a _soul eater_. You must have lost your way to the marble museum!" He ignored his mother as the elevator doors opened and closed on her face. He moved up with his arms crossed. “Welp, closed that case.” He whiped his hands free from that situation with 2 claps--

_Dude, don’t be a tool bag._

What the feng shui was that?

It was his voice but...he didn’t think that on his own. It was like it didn’t come from his brain but..somewhere else. “Who are you?” He said to himself.

 _I’m your conscience, Baruch. Spencer’s been helping me work out the last two weeks, and now I have enough strength to talk to you and help you make moral_ _decisions_.

“I'm scared....” This wasn't part of his everyday life. He found this uncomfortable and threatening.

_Listen, I know you know that kid didn’t mean any harm. Do you really want me to hold a suffering, hungry child against you for the rest of your life?_

“He tried to _KILL US ALL_! Why is that not getting through to anyone!”

 _Why is it not getting through to_ you _that he’s going through eternal pain? For once in your life, can you walk around in someone else's shoes ?_

“I _can’t_. I’m the only one with good taste in good shoes!” The elevator was taking a longer time than usual to get to his room, but Baruch didn’t mind it. "It won't fit me if I walk in someone else's!"

 _That’s the thing, dude. Everyone’s shoes comes in all shapes, sizes, and colors. No one is wrong in wearing their own shoe, even if you don’t believe they should put those on. The only thing you have to do to walk in them is understand how they fit_ their _feet and not yours. Try it!_

Baruch extended his bottom lip and his watery eyes grew 3 sizes that day. His conscience was right. There was a reason that kid tried to eat his mother’s soul, and if he wasn’t such a bored nimbus, no one would have to suffer any consequences for it. The boy didn’t know any better and he didn’t want anything more than to stop the pain as all. "I'm such a tool chest. That kid's in trouble!"

He pushed a black button for the 2nd floor where his mother was and waited to go back down.

“HAUCHY! WHY IS THERE AN ALLIGATOR IN MY HOUSE!?!”

“First off, _my house!_ Second, don’t be a racist, she is a proud, independent _crocodi_ \--!”

 _“_ **_HAUCHY!_ ** _”_

* * *

* * *

“Dude, you’re bumming me out.”

Spencer blinked himself awake, trying not to go back to that horrid dream. He looked at Billy's caring face and wondered why he had the nerve to even talk to him. “I’m sorry I don’t look pretty enough for you when I go to bed.”

Instead of taking that to offense or as a joke, Billy gave his tired friend a sincere look. “Can you sleep?”

“Shut your apple pie hole, you useless glop of ectoplasm.” He turned to his side, his back to Billy, and yanked his blanket over his head.  He wanted to yell at him for so many things. He wanted to get mad and chew him out like a dog toy. But he knew the moment he did, he’ll just end up being a jerk about what it and they’ll put this awkward encounter between them back to square one. Ignoring him was the best option. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Someone sounds cranky--”

“ _Go away!_ Can’t you let me have a full night’s sleep for _one night_?”

“Looks like you’re having trouble getting a quarter night’s sleep--”

“SHOVE IT!”

After hearing that, Billy flew out of the room.

“And good riddance!” But the moment Billy left, that weird feeling came back again and he felt this shaking urge to shiver and sob like last time. This time, he just sunk deeper into the covers and ignored it.

Before Spencer knew it, Billy eventually came back with a guitar over Spencer’s body. He phased through the bed and started plucking the strings while Spencer laid on his body. “I got just the thing for you. This used to put you right to sleep when you were a yougin’.”

“Well I aien’t a yougin’ no more, and I sure don’t need to be cradled like one.”

Billy stopped playing and blinked at Spencer with a pout. “Well we _can_ give this a try, or we can schedule an overdue appointment with the sandman and wait til he comes over. _I’ll_ be getting a good night’s sleep either way.”

Spencer sighed and crossed his arms. “This better work.”

Billy smiled and started his guitar again, actually singing his lullaby:

 

 

 

> _Once there was a pencil_  
>  _Who was two inches tall_  
>  _He didn’t think he could write_ _  
> A good story at all_
> 
> _But then he met a paper_  
>  _That was 8 inches wide_  
>  _They decided to write a tale_ _  
> That will make their momma’s cry_
> 
> _So they wrote, and they wrote_  
>  _Till the lead was no more_  
>  _There were zombies and werewolves_ _  
> And monsters and more_
> 
> _It was an epic poem_  
>  _That ended with a twist_  
>  _They passed it to their children_ _  
> And it went like this…_

Billy started the song all over again, but each time he started over again, the tales content changed. Maybe this time there were fairies and another time there were aliens.

“I don’t think I’ve heard this song before.”

“You were a squirt of mustard.”

“You never produced this?”

“Everyone got too sleepy to produce it, so we just let this one go.” The truth was that Billy made this song just for Spencer when he was little, and he didn’t want anyone else to know unless they were trying to help Spencer sleep. No one needed to know that dweebish fact though. "Just relax and try to sleep, 

He sang it over and over, but it never became annoying after many times. It was soothing to hear his voice in general. Over time, Spencer filled in the gaps with sometime funny like ‘boogers’ and ‘peanutbutter’. They did that until Spencer finally fell asleep dreaming about the song instead of that horrible chant. He dreamed of being small and playing the guitar while someone behind him instructed him how to play the melody, mostly playing for him. They did it in front of a mirror, but the larger figure was so vague. Still, spiritually, he knew who that was and smiled.

When Spencer was asleep, Billy sang the actual last verse:

 

 

 

> _Then the pencil went to bed_  
>  _when he wrote with all his might_  
>  _The paper tucked him in_ _  
> And hoped he has a good night._

Billy sighed contently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yup


End file.
